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THE CRANE CLASSICS 



SHAKESPEAEE'S 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR. 



WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 



BY 



MARGAEET HILL McCAETEE, 

Former Teacher of English and American Literature, 
Topeka High School. 



CRANE & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
TOPEKA, KANSAS 

1905 



OCT m jyut I 



?7f 



a.P/'7 



^^/yj 



'!Qn8l 



Copyright 1905, 

By Crane & Company, 

Topeka, Kansas. 



II^TEODUCTIOlsr. 

This play was first published in quarto form in 1608. 
In 1623 it was published in folio form. The time of the, 
writing is located between 1603 and 1606. In 1603 Dr. 
Harsnet published his Declaration of Popish Impostures. 
It was from this work that Shakespeare took the names of 
the devils of whom Edgar speaks in Act III. In 1607 
entry was made in the Stationers' Registers that the play 
was performed ^'before the kinges maiestie at Whitehall 
vppon Sainct Stephens night at Christmas Last;" that is, 
Christmas, 1606. In October, 1605, an eclipse of the sun 
followed one of the moon a month previous. Gloster 
speaks of 'Hhese late echpses." November 5, 1605, was 
the date of the ^'Gunpowder Plot," which to superstitious 
minds the eclipses might have portended. 

Whatever may have been the exact date of writing, 
certain it is that it was produced at the time when its 
author was in the Titanic era of his mental vigor. Shake- 
speare died at the age of fifty- two. This play was com- 
posed about ten or twelve years before his^death. There 
is a marked strength of conception and vehemence of action 
that are approximated only in Othello and equalled no- 
where else in his productions. In the fullness of his later 
years he wrote The Tempest, but the intensity has given 
way to calmness; the gigantic activity to the subdued 
grandeur of the ideals of ripened scholarship. The Tempest 
was the work of Shakespeare's sunset days. King Lear is 
the product of his noontide vigor. To all lovers of this 

(3) 



4 INTEODUCTIOIsr 

poet Lear will ever be the magnificent masterpiece, worthy 
of repeated study and analysis. 

I. Legendary Basis. 

It is not difficult to find the source from w^hich the poet- 
dramatist derived material for this play. Like the other 
productions from his pen, Shakespeare chd not trouble 
himself to create conditions. He recombined conchtions 
already made, for Shakespeare was never a literary in- 
ventor. Some old legend, some chronicle or bit of history, 
be it never so familiar, furnished him the fal^ric out of 
which to fashion things new^ and beautiful and peculiarly 
and intrinsically his own. 

The story of King Lear and his three daughters is one of 
the oldest in English literature. Holinshed had it in his 
^/ Chronicle ; Spencer in his Faerie Queen ; Geoffrey of 
^ Monmouth, in his Historia Britonum. Late in the six- 
teenth century it w^as dramatized as the Chronicle History 
of King Leir. Shakespeiire may have found his source of 
material in this old drama. The Gloster story had its 
base in Sidney's Arcadia. 

Whatever may have been the origin of the drama. King 
Lear is essentially Shakesperian, and its power and use- 
fulness come not from legends long preserved, but from 
its author's pen. 

Briefly told, the legend runs that old King Leir lived 
and ruled in the Isle of Briton. He had three daughters — 
Gonorilla, Regan, and Cordeilla. He loved them all, but 
especially loved he Cordeilla, the youngest. 

When he had grown old and childish, he thought to be- 
stow his kingdom upon the daughter who loved him most. 
Gonerilla declared that she loved him more than her own 



INTRODUCTION" O 

life; Regan, that she loved him far above all other crea- 
tures, — more than tongue could say ; but Cordeilla, that she 
loved him as her natural father, as much as he deserved 
to be loved, — so much she loved him. 

This angered King Leir. He married his two eldest 
daughters, the one to the Duke of Cornewal, and the other 
to the Duke of Albania. To these two at his death the 
land should descend, one-half of it assigned to them in 
hand; but the third daughter received nothing. 

Cordeilla, however, was, dowerless, happily married to 
a Prince of France, then called Gallia. 

When Leir had grown very old the two sons-in-law 
seized the lands from him, and with much limitation of 
power allowed him to retain a few servants for his needs. 
His daughters grew exceedingly unkind. He finally fled 
to Cordeilla, whom he had cast off. She sent him first 
servants and a sum of money, that he might array himself 
in state and be royally served. 

Furthermore, Cordeilla's husband took up his cause, 
and sent armies to Briton, who overcame the armies of 
Albania and Cornewal, and Cordeilla was made Queen of the 
Isle. This was in 3155, and fifty-four years before the 
building of Rome when "Uzia reigned over Juda, and 
Jeroboam over Israel." Here she ruled well for five years. 
At the death of her husband, her two nephews, sons of her 
sisters, refused to be ruled by a woman. So they raised an 
army against her, and put her into prison. Here, despair- 
ing of rescue, she slew herself. 

The Gloster thread of the drama is from Arcadia, and 
it is the story of a blind old king of Galacia and his faithful 
son who were found in sore distress by some storm-bound 
princes. The father greatly desired the son to leave him 



6 INTRODUCTION^ 

to his fate, or to lead him to the diff that he might cast 
himself down aud be killed. The son related to the sym- 
pathetic princes how the father had been thrust from his 
throne by an ungrateful brother, who also cruelly put out 
his eyes. 

But the father insisted upon telling the wdiole truth: 
how^ he himself had cast out this law^ful son and had be- 
stowed upon his illegitimate child all honor and powder. 
How the favored son had driven him forth, and the faithful 
child had found him and cared for him. Shakespeare 
follows this line closely, while he departs considerably from 
the legend of Leir. 

With this material w^e come to a literary analysis of 
Shakespeare's drama. 

II. Literary Analysis. 

" He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; and he that 
ruleth his ovm spirit than he that taketh a city." — Proverbs xvi: 32. 

King Lear falls into the class of Shakespearian drama 
known as legendary tragedy. In the same group with it 
are Timon of Athens, Romeo and Jnliet, and Othello. In 
each play the source of the plot is in legend, not history; 
and the conflict portrayed is overcome by death. In 
Timon of Athens this conflict centers in the question of 
property. In the other three it is a question of family. 
In Romeo and Juliet it is a lovers' quarrel. In Othello, an 
estrangement of husband and wife. In Lear, the conflict 
is between parents and children. 

In this class Lear easily holds the first rank. If, as it 
has been said, ''every page of Macbeth is marked with 
bloody finger-prints," every page of King Lear is marked 
by violent anger, unreason, madness. It follows, then, 
that mighty influences grow from such portrayal of activ- 



INTEODUCTION 7 

ity, that the lessons taught by the drama will be as power- 
ful and wide-reaching as the drama itself is vigorous and 
intense. 

The play develops along two lines of thought, embracing 
Gloster and his sons in one line and Lear and his daughters 
in the other. The two, however, have only one basis: 
the father destroys his family by his own mis-judgment, 
drives out his faithful child, and elevates the faithless ones 
even to giving up his property to them. The father in 
each case receives from the hands he has favored a punish- 
ment for his wrong-doing. But since those who bring 
down this punishment upon parental heads are themselves 
guilty, it follows that they in turn must also meet retribu- 
tion, and it will come to them from those who have been 
banished. 

The differences in the two lines are, that Lear has only 
daughters; Gloster, only sons. One father is king, the 
other subject. One is irascible, the other superstitious. 
Hence all phases of the family, except the mother, and all 
grades of society are here represented. Clearly, it is an 
era of family strife as Julius Ccesar represents an era of 
state strife. 

The action of the play also divides into two lines. The 
first includes the first three acts; the second, the last two. 
In analyzing the play the two lines of thought, Gloster and 
Lear, nmst be traced through the two phases of action, 
after some such diagram as this : 





Acts I-III. 


Acts IV-V. 


Lear 












Gloster 







8 INTEODUCTION" 

The curtain rises on Gloster, who hghtly refers to the 
immorahty of his youth, regardless of the fact that his un- 
fortunate son is present to hear his own shame frivolously 
spoken of. It is not strange that in the bitterness of his 
degradation this son should turn against his father. We 
see at once Gloster's crime, and the instrument of his pun- 
ishment. Edmund, through no fault of his own, is an 
outcast from society. For this condition Gloster is to 
blame, and he nmst pay the penalty. But no one can so 
fittingly brmg him to judgment as the one against whom he 
has sinned. It is only natural that Edmund, who cannot 
be a respected member of his father's family, should turn 
against the family; and since he cannot inherit property, 
he naturally seeks to gain it by contriving and deception. 
If he is outside the law, he will use means outside of the 
law to come into his own. The weapons to his hand are 
simple. Gloster is superstitious, Edgar is credulous. Ed- 
mund is neither, but he plays the father's superstition 
against the son's credulity, and in the end of the game 
Edgar, the faithful son, is banished from his father's house 
and the false-hearted Edmund is installed the son and heir 
in his brother's stead. 

Edmund, once in power, turns against the father who 
elevated him to power, and is a party to the cruelty that 
deprives the old man of his eyes and thrusts him helpless 
outside his own castle-gate. Could Gloster have looked 
forward years ago from the indiscretions of an immoral 
youth to this sightless, homeless old age, how different 
might have been his course! The inexorable law of retri- 
bution waited long to bring to him the measure due him, 
but it came at last, and by the only fitting means, — the 
one whom he had wronged. 



INTRODITCTION" - V 

The other line running through the first three acts is 
that of Lear and his daughters. When we first meet Lear 
he is an irascible old king in whom absolute power, a long 
era of ruling and the weight of fourscore years have pro- 
duced a disposition as unyielding as it is unreasonable. 
The burden of his kinghood he chooses now to lay upon 
other shoulders, retaining to himself the honor and ap- 
pointments of a ruler. Absolutism demands adulation. 
Lear has long been accustomed to flattery; he now de- 
mands it as his right. It is his vanity that prompts him to 
require of his three daughters a protestation of their love 
for him. The two oldest children, Goneril and Regan, are 
extravagant in their declarations, but Cordelia professes to 
love him only as a natural father. Cordelia in her strict 
regard for truth is over-blunt of speech, as the painfully 
conscientious usually are. 

Lear, the irascible, flies into a fury, and drives Cordelia, 
dowerless, from his presence. His kingdom he then di- 
vides between his two oldest daughters. In a brief time 
they turn against him, strip him of the semblance of power 
he had retained, drive him from their door into the pitiless 
darkness and storm of the night, unattended and unshel- 
tered. 

So Lear's crime against the faithful Cordelia finds retri- 
bution in being himself turned forth by those whom he had 
exalted to high places. 

The second movement of the action, including the last 
two acts, shows that in each line the retribution of the first 
part constitutes the guilt of the second. Vengeance conies 
home to Gloster through Edmund, the son whom he 
wronged. But in bringing this retribution to his father 
Edmund sins against the innocent Edgar, who in turn must 



10 INTRODUCTION 

be requited for that wrong. In driving Edgar out, Gloster 
is punished, but Edmund must also be punished, for he 
has done a wrong. The last two acts exist to bring about 
this punishment. By Edgar's hand the traitor Edmund 
falls, and the eternal balance of justice attains its equi- 
librium. 

The same is true of the Lear line. I^ear, who commits a 
wrong toward Cordelia, is driven out by those whom he 
had trusted. But in bringing retribution to their father 
the daughters are themselves faithless to him. So the last 
two acts exist for them to receive their reward for the evil 
they have done. 

There remains one point further to be considered, namely : 
Why Cordelia must also perish. The answer is clear. 
Cordelia, in avenging her father's wrongs, attacks the 
kingdom also. King Lear of his own volition gave up his 
kingdom. To have given him aid and protection and to 
have punished the cruel-hearted daughters were well and 
right. But to restore him to his kingdom, or to invade 
with the army of France, the Island of Britain, was a blow 
at the state. Cordelia went beyond her lawful bound, 
and perished for the going. 

So much for the brief analysis of the play. The study of 
the individual characters remains to be taken up. 

The minor characters fall into tw^o groups : the faithless 
and the faithful. In the first are Edmund, Goneril, and 
Regan. In the second, Edgar, Kent, Albany, and Corde- 
lia. And by some trick of affinity these people run to- 
gether in the action. Edmimd the usurper easily pleases 
Goneril and Regan, to both of w^hom he pledges himself. 
His base nature is untrue beyond his assumed need of 
family and property rights. Goneril, who turns against 



INTRODUCTION 11 

her father, turns also against her sister and her husband, 
causing the death of the former and conniving at the death 
of the latter. 

Of the other group, Edgar excites little admiration. His 
is a weak nature, else Edmund could not so easily have 
controlled him. He comes at last into as good a fortune 
as he deserves. 

Albany, whose character grows upon the student, is the 
only one of the cast who is not destroyed, or sunk into 
oblivion. The fool ^^goes to bed at noon"; Kent has a 
long journey before him, and Edgar drops out of sight. 
The kingdom goes to Albany, who deserves it and logically 
may enjoy it. The keynote to his character is in his 
words, 

''Where I could not be honest I never yet was valiant." 

Kent and Cordelia are alike in steadfast loyaltj^ — Kent 
as subject, Cordelia as daughter. But as sincerity is their 
code, they fall into the error of bluntness of speech that 
cannot accomphsh entirely the ends they seek to gain. It 
is a trait of the extremely conscientious always, and it ever 
has its unfortunate effect. But aside from this, the stu- 
dent must always admire the integrity of Kent. Cordelia 
is never deeply admired. Her judgment and her tact are 
both deficient. 

Beyond these two groups are Oswald, the tool of Goneril, 
a despicable knave, and the v/ise little fool, who even 
among Shakespeare's fools is pre-eminently clever. 

But the central, dominant figure of the drama is King 
Lear, and the analysis of this character and its world-wide 
application is worth our while. 

King Lear, like his own fool, and like all the rest of us, 



12 INTRODUCTION" 

kings or fools, was the product of his surroundings plus his 
physical, mental and ethical development. He was the 
sum of himself multiplied b}^ his years of time and ex- 
ternal circumstances. His was a monster-bearing age, an 
era of deep uncivilization, when the shrewdness of an un- 
folded intellect lacked the softening power that is not easily 
provoked and that seeketh not her own. Lear left the 
world no better than he found it. Behind him lay the 
long years of a powerful reign. The habit of sovereignty 
was upon him, fixed there by the summers and winters of 
almost a lifetime. His rule had been absolute. No Wit- 
enagemote had shared with him the grave burdens of state. 
No parliamentary nor judicial body had simplified and 
limited the necessity for power. Years of uncurbed au- 
thority wrought in his mental building and helped to frame 
and shape him. Added to long and absolute dictation 
was old age, when aspiration is merged into acceptance and 
hope is become only persistent endurance. It is not 
strange, then, that Lear at fourscore should be the very 
embodiment of unrestraint, unless the inner man be larger 
in his strength than tlie strength that lies in external con- 
ditions. For after all, it is the mind and spirit that may 
control the real man, and the crown that gilds ^' the strait- 
ened forehead of the fool" is no more a mark of graceful 
rank than the cap and bells may be. 

In physical stature Lear was majestic. Even in his 
desolation, ragged and storm-beaten, with madness seeth- 
ing in his brain, he still was regal. Something in his com- 
manding presence, his tall, splendid figure, his grand white 
hair and flowing beard, proclaimed him always a king. 
^'Ay, every inch a king," whose look could command 
obedience. 



I]SrTKODUCTION 13 

So much for the outside of Lear. But what lay within? 
First, he failed to know himself, and through himself to 
study humanity, of which he was only a type. He de- 
veloped no power of analysis. He accepted royalty, he 
grew insensibly into tyranny, he demanded absolute sub- 
mission without ever answering to himself why he might 
claim themi all. He wanted sovereignty, but he gave no 
thought to the sources of sovereignty. He craved ex- 
pressions of love, with never a clear vision of that realm 
where love abides. 

Some innate instinct drew him to Albany, the only real, 

decently equipped man in the play. 

"I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than 
Cornwall." 

In the opening words of the drama Kent tells us this. In 
an indistinct way Lear recognized Albany's merits, just 
as he half distrusted his own proud heart when he drove 
his little favorite Cordelia, dowerless from his door, and 
gave her only a father's curse. But inasmuch as he failed 
through self-analysis to comprehend the claims of either 
merit or love, he cast out his loyal subjects and put his 
trust in traitors. He took for sincerity the flattery of his 
two daughters, she-monsters that they were, and shut away 
from himself the honest, unselfish love of his true-hearted 
child. He lived in a seeming unreal world and he took the 
semblance of things for their reality. He could not know 
truth in others until he knew it in himself, and his proud, 
dominant soul never paused to hunt for it there. How 
much of life's dismal failures spring from never knowing 
its controlling motives! 

With these conditions — the unrestraint of a long and 
absolute rule and the lack of analytic insight — the ethical 



14 



IN^TRODUCTION 



qualities of King Lear are easily understood. He was ob- 
stinate, impetuous, and selfish. Servants are natural dis- 
turbers. When his own long retinue of an hundred knights 
made trouble in the households of his daughters, he ob- 
stinately resented a reduction in their number. He rashly 
drove himself into the storm, his daughter Regan merely 
closing the gate after him as she declared, 

" To wilful men 
The injuries that the}^ themselves procure 
Must be their schoolmasters." 

Added to his craving for love was his desire for the pomp 
and show of royalty. He longed for adulation and the 
semblance of power, while he laid the care and burden of 
it on other shoulders. 

In Lear, who might have been ''every inch a king,'' 
there developed the mean spirit of revenge. Nowhere else 
in literature is there a parallel to the bitter, blasting 
malediction and threats of vengeance that Lear calls down 
upon his two daughters, into whose hands he had put the 
power that crushed him. 

Lastl}^, there was lacking in Lear that supreme need, a 
warm human sympathy. There is no touch of mother- 
love in all the drama. It is not until homeless old age and 
poverty and bitter weather come to the king that his heart 
melts in pity for the poor of his kingdom, and he cries out : 

" Poor naked wretches wheresoe'er you are 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, 
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness defend you 
From seasons such as these?" 

Then in very bitterness of heart he moans: 
" O, I have ta'en too little care of this." 



INTRODUCTION 15 

Such, then, is Lear. What will be the effect of his rule? 
What, but to beget falsehood and treason in his subjects 
nnd insanity in himself? For madness is intensified 
unrestraint. Lear committed intellectual suicide. He 
hanged his mental self with a rope of his own braiding. 

With all the splendid opportunities of a magnificent 
kinghood, with unwavering loyalty and love at his com- 
mand, with an impregnable absolutism of power, poor old 
Lear was the sum of himself made up of all the units of 
his years, and in a consuming rage, and grief sharper than 
a serpent's tooth, his light we.nt out, and his life tarried 
not long in following. 

It was long and long ago that old King Lear lived in 
legend and found a place in finest literature. But the les- 
sons of his life are as potent to-day as they were in the 
days of misrule in Briton, and some of them may be set 
down here. 

The force of the bearing that is kingly compared to the 
others is least important, and yet it is valuable. The 
dignity of manner that is the exponent of real kinghood 
has its measure of influence. Lear ^'had that in his face" 
that made men his subjects. Frivolous speech, undue fa- 
miliarity, careless behavior, mar the man who w^ould be 
really useful as much as stifi' austerity and stilted manners 
may do. He who would command respect must give 
outward evidence of why he should deserve it. 

The second lesson is the need for self-study. It is some- 
times the surprise of a lifetime to find how absolutely un- 
acquainted we arcj^with ourselves. There are men and 
women who never get further than a mere speaking ac- 
quaintance with themselves. King Lears they are who 
would lord it over others while they stand in absolute ig- 



16 IISrTRODUCTION 

norance of their own souls. Self-study is the great source 
of power to the student. AVhen we know what motive it 
is that prompts us to desire one thing and to avoid another, 
we first begin to know our strength. And the calm as- 
surance born of knowing makes doing easy. 

Self-study gives restraint, and restraint is wisdom. Un- 
restraint is madness. ^' Every man that striveth for the 
mastery is temperate in all things," says Saint Paul, — is 
intelligently self-controlled in soul and body. 

Self-study gives insight, the power to discriminate, the 
power to analyze. 

"I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than 
Cornwall." 

How mournfully pitiful that he went no further than a 
dim discernment of Albany's merits. How^ grave a matter 
that he should pass over the gentle kiss and soft caress of 
Cordelia for the claw^s and fangs of Goneril and Regan. 

Self-study bestows the large blessing of understanding 
divine things. God made man in his own image. It is 
through self-knowing that man comes nearest to knowing 
his Creator. 

So much for the physical and mental eciuipment : what 
are the ethical lessons to be learned from this analysis? 

Character is the sum of life. King Lear did not spring 
at once into an obstinate, selfish, impetuous, show-loving, 
flattery-craving, unsympathetic old age. He came to it 
moment by moment. His manner of gi-owing old is not 
changed to-day. If a man is absolutely and irreproach- 
ably honest, he is so because honesty has come to be the 
fixed habit of his life, and each passing year grounds him 
the more thoroughly in his integrit}^ If a man is abso- 
lutely and irreproachably moral, he makes day by day a 



INTEODUCTIOTq- 17 

winning fight with immoral forces. He may not affect 
these virtues and hold them for a year or two, or put them 
on and off like summer and winter clothing. They are not 
garments. They come to be integument and bone and 
fiber. 

King Lear did not live in the lives of those about him. 
Their joys and griefs, their aspirations and their failures 
moved him not at all. Real kinghood seeks to reproduce 
itself in its subjects. 

''Ye are my children," says the Great Teacher, ''if ye 
do whatsoever I command you;" and He wisely adds, 
" My commandments are not grievous. " Did he not mean, 
"Ye are Christ-like, nay, ye are a part of the Christ, if 
my word that goeth forth through you shall not return 
unto me void, but shall accomplish the thing whereunto 
I sent it"? 

One lesson more. King Lear lacked the warm heart of 
sympathy. 

"O, I have ta'en too little care of this." 

How bitter is that cry of Lear's remorse when his lot is 
become one with the unhoused, unfed poor of his kingdom! 
This was the crowning defect of Lear's character, and it 
is the crownmg defect of character always. 

" Though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand 
all mysteries and all knowledge," wrote Saint Paul, "and 
though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor and have 
not charity, I am nothing." 

Dignity of bearing, self-study, a steady building-up of 
right principles from day to day, unselfish living and gen- 
uine heart-sympathy for humanity, — these are the things 
that most exalt a kingdom and turn the misrule and mad- 
ness of King Lear into strength and honor. 



18 INTRODUCTION" 

The lessons of this drama come home not alone to the 
crowned head, the chief executive or the parliamentary 
and judicial power of a kingdom or commonwealth : they 
come to the kingdom of the heart, the supreme rule of the 
soul, enforcing home the truth of the wise old proverl) — 

" He that is slow to anger is better than he that is mighty ; and 
he that ruleth his own spirit, than he that taketh a city." 

MARGARET HILL McCARTER. 
ToPEKA, Kansas, 1905. 



KINGr LEAE 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 



Lear, king of Britain. 

Kjng of France. 

Duke of Burgundy. 

Duke of Cornwall. 

Duke of Albany. 

Earl of Kent. 

Earl of Gloster. 

Edgar, son to Gloster. 

Edmund, bastard son to Gloster. 

CuRAN, a courtier. 

Oswald, steward to Goneril. 

Old Man, tenant to Gloster. 

Doctor. 

Fool. 

A Captain employed by Edmund. 

Gentleman attendant on Cordelia. 

A Herald. 

Servants to Cornwall. 

Goneril, "j 

Regan, ^ daughters to Lear. 

Cordelia, j 

Knights of Lear's train, Captains, Messengers, Soldiers, and 
Attendants. 
Scene: Britain. 



(20) 



ACT I. 

Scene I. King Learns Palace. 
Enter Kent, Gloster, and Edmund. 

Kent. I thought the king had more affected the Duke of 
Albany than Cornwall. 

Gloster. It did always seem so to us : but now, in the di- 
vision of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he 
values most ; for qualities are so weighed, that curiosity in 
neither can make choice of cither's moiety. 

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? 

Gloster. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge; I 
have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am 
brazed to 't. Do you smell a fault? ^^ 

Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being 
so proper. 

Gloster. But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year 
elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account ; though 
this knave came something saucily into the world before he 
was sent for, yet was his mother fair, and the whoreson must 
be acknowledged.— Do you know this noble gentleman, Ed- 
mund? 

Edmund. No, my lord. 

Gloster. My lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as 
my honourable friend. ^^ 

Edmund. My services to your lordship. 

Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you bcttei-. 

Edmund. Sir, I shall study deserving. 

Gloster. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall 
again.— The king is coming. [Sennet within. 

( 21 ) 



22 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

Enter one hearing a coronet, King Lear, Cornwall, Al- 
bany, GoNERiL, Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants. 

Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloster. 

Gloster. I shall, my liege. [Exeunt Gloster and Edmund. 

Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. — 
Give me the map there. — Know that we have divided ^^ 
In three our kingdom; and 't is our fast intent 
To shake all cares and business from our age, 
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we 
Unburthen'd crawl toward death. — Our son of Cornwall, — 
And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 
We have this hour a constant will to publish 
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife 
May be prevented now. The princes, France and Bur- 
gundy, 
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, ^" 

Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, 
And here are to be answer'd. — Tell me, my daughters. 
Since now we will divest us both of rule, 
Interest of territory, cares of state, 
^^Tiich of you shall we say doth love us most? 
That we our largest bounty may extend 
AVhere nature doth with merit challenge. — Goneril, 
Our eldest-born, speak first. 

Goneril. Sir, I love you more than word can wield the 
matter ; ^" 

Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty; 
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; 
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; 
As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found ; 
A love that makes breath poor, and speech imable ; 
Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 



TRAGEDY OF KliTG LEAR 23 

Cordelia. [Aside.l What shall Cordelia speak? Love, 
and be silent. 

Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, 
With shadowy forests and with champaigns rich'd, ®^ 

With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, 
We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue 
Be this perpetual. — WTiat says our second daughter. 
Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? 

Regan. I am made of that self metal as my sister, 
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart 
I find she names my very deed of love ; 
Only she comes too short: that I profess 
Myself an enemy to all other joys 

Which the most precious square of sense professes, ^"* 

And find I am alone felicitate 
In your dear highness' love. 

Cordelia. [Aside] Then poor CordeHa! 

And yet not so, since I am sure my love's 
More ponderous than my tongue. 

Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever 
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom, 
No less in space, validity, and pleasure. 
Than that conferr'd on Goneril. — Now, our joy, 
Although our last and least, to whose young love ^^ 

The vines of France and milk of Burgundy 
Strive to be interess'd, what can you say to draw 
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. 

Cordelia. Nothing, my lord. ..^ 

Lear. Nothing? 

Cordelia. Nothing. 

Lear. Nothing will come of nothing; speak again. 

Cordelia. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 



24 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty 
According to my bond ; no more nor less. ®^ 

Lear. How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little, 
Lest it may mar your fortunes. 

Cordelia. Good my lord, 

You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me; I 
Return those duties back as are right fit. 
Obey you, love you, and most honour you. 
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say 
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, 
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry 
Half my love with him, half my care and duty. ^^^ 

Sure, I shall never marr}^ like my sisters, 
To love my father all. 

Lear. But goes thy heart with this? 

Cordelia. Ay, my good lord. 

Lear. So young, and so untender? 

Cordelia. So young, my lord, and true. 

Lear. Let it be so ; thy truth then be thy dower : 
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun. 
The mysteries of Hecate and the night. 
By all the operation of the orbs "^ 

From whom we do exist and cease to be, 
Here I disclaim all my parental care. 
Propinquity and property of blood, 
And as a stranger to my heart and me 
Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian, 
Or he that makes his generation messes 
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd, 
As thou my sometime daughter. 

Kent. Good my liege, — ^-" 



TRAGEDY OF KING I-EAR 25 

Lear. Peace, Kent! 
Come not between the dragon and his wrath. 
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest 
On her kind nursery. — Hence, and avoid my sight! — 
So be my grave my peace, as here I give 
Her father's heart from her! — Call France. Who stirs? 
Call Burgundy. — Cornwall and Albany, 
With my two daughters' dowers digest the third. 
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. 
I do invest you jointly with my power, ^^^ 

Pre-eminence, and all the large effects 
That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course. 
With reservation of an hundred knights. 
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode 
Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain- 
The name and all the addition to a king ; 
The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, 
Beloved sons, be yours : which to confirm, 
This coronet part between you. 

Kent Royal Lear, '**• 

Wliom I have ever honour'd as my king, 
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd, 
As my great patron thought on in my prayers, — 

Lear, The bow is bent and drawn ; make from the shaft. 

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade 
The region of my heart! Be Kent unmannerly 
When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? 
Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak 
\ATien power to flattery bows? To plainness honour 's 

bound, 
Wlien majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state, 
And in thy best consideration check 



26 



THE CRAN"E CLASSICS 



This hideous rashness. Answer my hfe my judgment, 
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least ; 
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound 
Reverbs no hollowness. 

Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more! 

Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn 
To wage against thy enemies, nor fear to lose it, 
Thy safety being the motive. ^^^ 

Lear. Out of my sight! 

Kent. See better, Lear, and let me still remain 
The true blank of thine eye. 

Lear. Now, by Apollo, — 

Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, 

Thou swear 'st thy gods in vain. 

Lear. . 0, vassal! miscreant! 

[Laying his hand on his sword. 

'^ " 77 r Dear sir, forbear. 
Cornwall. ) ' 

Kent. Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow 
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift; "*^ 

Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, 
I'll tell thee thou dost evil. 

Lear. Hear me, recreant! 

On thine allegiance, hear me! 
That thou hast sought to make us break our vow. 
Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride 
To come betwixt our sentence and our power. 
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear. 
Our potency made good, take thy reward. 
Five days we do allot thee, for provision ^*® 

To shield thee from diseases of the world. 
And on the sixth to turn thv hated back 



TRAGEDY OF KINO LEAR 27 

Upon our kingdom ; if on the tenth day following 
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, 
The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter, 
This shall not be revok'd. 

Kent. Fare thee well, king; sith thus thou wilt appear, 
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. — 
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, 
That justly think'st and hast most rightly said! — ^®° 

And your large speeches may your deeds approve. 
That good effects may spring from words of love. — 
Thus Kent, princes, bids you all adieu; 
He '11 shape his old course in a country new. [Exit. 

Flourish. Re-enter Gloster, with France, Burgundy, and 
Attendants. 

Gloster. Here 's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. 

Lear. My lord of Burgundy, 
We first address toward you, who with this king 
Hath rivaird for our daughter ; what, in the least. 
Will you require in present dower with her. 
Or cease your quest of love? ^^" 

Burgundy. Most royal majesty, 

I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd. 
Nor will you tender less. 

Lear. Right noble Burgundy, 

When she was dear to us, we did hold her so ; 
But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands. 
If aught within that little-seeming substance, 
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd. 
And nothing more, maj^ fitly like your grace. 
She 's there, and she is yours. ^^^ 

Burgundy. I know no answer. 



28 



THE CRANE CLASSICS 



Lear. Will you, with those infirmities she owes, 
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate. 
Dower' d with our curse and stranger' d with our oath, 
Take her, or leave her? 

Burgundy. Pardon me, royal sir; 

Election makes not up on such conditions. 

Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made 
me, 
I tell you all her wealth. — [To France'] For you, great king, 
I would not from your love make such a stray, ^^^ 

To match you where I hate ; therefore beseech you 
To avert your liking a more worthier way 
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd 
Almost to acknowledge hers. 

France. This is most strange. 

That she, who even but now was your best object, 
The argument of your praise, balm of your age. 
The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time 
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle ^^*^ 

So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence 
Must be of such unnatural degree 
That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection 
Fallen into taint ; which to believe of her. 
Must be a faith that reason without miracle 
Should never plant in me. 

Cordelia. I yet beseech your majesty, — 

If for I want that glib and oily art, 
To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend 
I '11 do't before I speak, — that you make known ^^ 

It is no vicious blot, nor other foulness. 
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step. 
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour; 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 29 

But even for want of that for which I am richer, 
A still-soUciting eye, and such a tongue 
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it 
Hath lost me in your liking. 

Lear. Better thou 

Hadst not been born than not to have pleas'd me better. 

France. Is it but this? a tardiness in nature, ^^" 

Which often leaves the history unspoke 
That it intends to do? — My lord of Burgundy, 
What say you to the lady? Love 's not love 
When it is mingled with regards that stands 
Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? 
She is herself a dowry. 

Burgundy. Royal Lear, 

Give but that portion which yourself propos'd, 
And here I take Cordelia by the hand, 
Duchess of Burgundy. ^^^ 

Lear. Nothing. I have sworn; I am firm. 

Burgundy. I am sorry then you have lost a father 
That you must lose a husband. 

Cordelia. Peace be with Burgundy! 

Since that respects of fortune are his love, 
I shall not be his wife. 

France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor, 
Most choice forsaken, and most lov'd despis'd. 
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon ; 
Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. ^^" 

Gods, gods! 't is strange that from their cold'st neglect 
My love should kindle to inflam'd respect. — 
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance. 
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. 
Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy 



30 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me. — 
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind; 
Thou losest here, a better where to find. 

Lear. Thou hast her, France ; let her be thine, for we 
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see ^^^ 

That face of hers again. — Therefore be gone 
Without our grace, our love, our benison. — 
Come, noble Burgundy. 

[Flourish. Exeunt all hut France, Goneril, Regan, 
and Cordelia. 

France. Bid farewell to your sisters. 

Cordelia. Ye jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes 
Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are. 
And, like a sister, am most loath to call 
Your faults as they are nam'd. Love well our father. 
To your professed bosoms I commit him ; 
But yet, alas! stood I wdthin his grace, ^*" 

I would prefer him to a better place. ^ 
So farewell to you both. 

Regan. Prescribe not us our duty. 

Goneril. Let your study 

Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you 
At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, 
And well are worth the want that you have wanted. 

Cordelia. Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides ; 
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. 
Well may you prosper! ^®® 

France. Come, my fair Cordelia. 

[Exeunt France and Cordelia. 

Goneril. Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most 
nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence 
to-night. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 31 

Regan. That's most certain, and with you; next month 
with us. 

Goneril. You see how full of changes his age is; the ob- 
servation we have made of it hath not been little. He al- 
ways loved our sister most; and with what poor judgment 
he hath now cast her off appears too grossly. ^^^ 

Regan. 'T is the infirmity of his age ; yet he hath ever but 
slenderly known himself. 

Goneril. The best and soundest of his time hath been but 
rash ; then must we look from his age to receive, not alone 
the imperfections of long-ingraffed condition, but there- 
withal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric 
years bring with them. 

Regan. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from 
him as this of Kent's banishment. ^^^ 

Goneril. There is further compliment of leave-taking be- 
tween France and him. Pray you, let us hit together; if 
our father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, 
this last surrender of his but will offend us. 

Regan. We shall further think of it. 

Goneril. We must do something, and i' th' heat. [Exeunt. 

Scene II. The Earl of Gloster's Castle. 
Enter Edmund, tuith a letter. 
Edmund. Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law 
My services are bound. Wherefore should I 
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit 
The curiosity of nations to deprive me, 
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines 
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base? 
When my dimensions are as well compact, 
My mind as generous and my shape as true. 



32 



THE CKANE CLASSICS 



As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us 

With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?, ^° 

Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land. 

Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund 

As to the legitimate; fine word, — legitimate! 

W^ell, my legitimate, if this letter speed 

And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 

Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper: — 

Now, gods, stand up for bastards! 

Enter Gloster. 

Gloster. Kent banish 'd thus! and France in choler parted! 
And the king gone to-night! subscrib'd his power! 
Confin'd to exhibition! All this done ^^ 

Upon the gad! — Edmund, how now! what news? 

Edmund. So please your lordship, none. 

[Putting up the letter. 

Gloster. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter? 

Edmund. I know no news, my lord. 

Gloster. What paper were you reading? 

Edmund. Nothing, my lord. 

Gloster. No? What needed then that terrible dispatch 
of it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath not 
such need to hide itself. Let 's see ; come, if it be nothing, 
I shall not need spectacles. ^® 

Edmund. I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter 
from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read ; and for so 
much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o'erlooking. 

Gloster. Give me the letter, sir. 

Edmund. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The 
contents, as in part I imderstand them, are to blame. 

Gloster. Let's see, let's see. 



TRAGEDY OF KITTG LEAR 33 

Edmund. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote 
this but as an essay or taste of my virtue. ^^ 

Gloster. [Reads] 'This policy and reverence of age makes 
the ivorld hitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes 
from us till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an 
idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who 
sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to me, 
that of this I may speak more. If our father woidd sleep till 
I wake him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and 
live the beloved of your brother, Edgar.' 

Hum! — Conspiracy! — 'Sleep till I wake him, you should en- 
joy half his revenue,' — My son Edgar! Had he a hand to 
write this? a heart and brain to breed it in? — When came 
this to you? who brought it? ^^ 

Edmund. It was not brought me, my lord; there's the 
cunning of it : I found it thrown in at the casement of my 
closet. 

Gloster. You know the character to be your brother's? 

Edmund. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear 
it were his; but, in respect of that, I w^ould fain think it 
were not. 

Gloster. It is his. 

Edmund. It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is 
not in the contents. ^^ 

Gloster. Hath he never before sounded you in this busi- 
ness? 

Edmund. Never, my lord ; but I have heard him oft main 
tain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age, and fathers de- 
clined, the father should be as ward to the son, and the 
son manage his revenue. 

Gloster. villain, villain! His very opinion in the let- 
ter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish vil- 



34 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

lain! worse than brutish!— Go, sirrah, seek him; I'll ap- 
prehend him. Abominable villain! WTiere is he? ^^ 

Edmund. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please 
you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you 
can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you 
should run a certain course; where, if you violently pro- 
ceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a 
great gap in your own honour and shake in pieces the heart 
of his obedience. I dare pawn down mj^ life for him that 
he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour, and 
to no other pretence of danger. ^^ 

Gloster. Think you so? 

Ednmnd. If your honour judge it meet, I will place you 
where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular 
assurance have your satisfaction; and that without any 
further delay than this very evening. 

Gloster. He cannot be such a monster — 

Edmund. Nor is not, sure. 

Gloster. To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves 
him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out: wind 
me into him, I pray you; frame the business after your 
own wisdom. I would unstate myself, to be in a due res- 
olution. ^^ 

Edmund. I will seek him, sir, presently, convey the busi- 
ness as I shall find means, and acquaint you with all. 

Gloster. These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend 
no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it 
thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the se- 
quent effects: love cools, friendship falls off, brothers di- 
vide ; in cities, mutinies ; in countries, discord ; in palaces, 
treason ; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father. This 
villain of mine comes under the prediction :l|there 's son 



I 



TRAGEDY OF KIN^G LEAR 35 

against father : the king falls from bias of nature ; there 's 
father against child. We have seen the best of our time; 
machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous dis- 
orders follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out this 
villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it care- 
fully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! 
his offence, honesty ! 'T is. strange. [Exit. 

Edmund. This is the excellent foppery of the world, 
that, when we are sick in fortune — often the surfeit of our 
own behaviour — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, 
the moon, and the stars : as if we were villains on necessity ; 
fools by heavenly compulsion ; knaves, thieves, and treach- 
ers, by spherical predominance ; drunkards, liars, and adul- 
terers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence ; and 
all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. Edgar — 

Eiiter Edgar. 

and pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old comedy. 
My cue is villanous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' 
Bedlam. 0, these eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, 
sol, la, mi. ^^^ 

Edgar. How now, brother Edmund! what serious con- 
templation are you in ? 

Edmund. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read 
this other day, what should follow these eclipses. 

Edgar. Do you busy yourself with that? 

Edmund. I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed 
unhappily : as of unnaturalness between the child and the 
parent : death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities ; di- 
visions in state, menances and maledictions against king 
and nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of friends. 



36 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not 
what. 

Edgar. How long have you been a sectary astronomical? 

Edmund. Come, come; when saw you my father last? 

Edgar. The night gone by. 

Edmund. Spake you with him? 

Edgar. Ay, two hours together. 

Edmund. Parted you in good terms? Found you no 
displeasure in him by w^ord nor countenance ? 

Edgar. None at all. "' 

Edmund. Bethink yourself wherein you may have of- 
fended him; and at my entreaty forbear his presence till 
some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, 
which at this instant so rageth in him that with the mis- 
chief of your person it would scarcely allay. 

Edgar. Some villain hath done me wrong. 

Edmund. That 's my fear. I pray you, have a continent 
forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I 
say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly 
bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray ye, go ; there 's my 
key : if you do stir abroad, go armed. ^^^ 

Edgar. Armed, brother! 

Edmund. Brother, I advise you to the best ; go armed : 
T am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward 
you. I have told you what I have seen and heard; but 
faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it : pray you, 
away. 

Edgar. Shall I hear from you anon ? 

Edmund. I do serve you in this business. — 

[Exit Edgar. 
A credulous father, and a brother noble, "^ 

Whose nature is so far from doing harms 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAK 37 

That he suspects none; on whose foohsh honesty 

My practices ride easy. I see the business. 

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit; 

All with me 's meet that I can fashion fit. [Exit. 

Scene III. The Duke of Albany's Palace. 
Enter Goneeil and Os^vald, her steward. 

Goneril. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding 
of his fool ? 

Osivald. Ay, madam. 

Goneril. By day and night he wrongs me ; every hour 
He flashes into one gross crime or other. 
That sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it. 
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us 
On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, 
I will not speak with him; say I am sick. 
If you come slack of former services, ^^ 

You shall do well ; the fault of it I '11 answer. 

Oswald. He's coming, madam; I hear him. 

[Horns within. 

Goneril. Put on what weary negligence you please, 
You and your fellows; I'd have it come to question. 
If he distaste it, let him to my sister. 
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one. 
Not to be over-rul'd. Idle old man. 
That still would manage those authorities 
That he hath given away ! Now, by my life. 
Old fools are babes again, and must be us'd ^^ 

With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd. 
Remember what I have said. 

Oswald. Well, madam. 

Goneril. And let his knights have colder looks among you. 



38 TPIE CRANE CLASSICS 

What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so. 

I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, 

That I may speak. I '11 write straight to my sister, 

To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner. [Exeunt. 

Scene IV. A Hall in the Sayne. 
Enter Kent, disguised. 

Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, 
That can my speech diffuse, my good intent 
May carry through itself to that full issue 
For which I raz'd my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent, 
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd. 
So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st. 
Shall find thee full of labours. 

Horns urithin. Enter Lear, Knights, cmd Attendants. 

Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner ; go get it ready. — 
[Exit an Attendayit.] How now! what art thou? 

Kent. A man, sir. • ^^ 

Lear. What dost thou profess? what wouldst thou with 
us? 

Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to serve him 
truly that will put me in trust ; to love him that is honest ; 
to converse with him that is wise and says little; to fear 
judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no 
fish. 

Lear. What art thou? 

Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the 
king. 

Lear. If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he is for a 
king, thou art poor enough. ^Vliat wouldst thou? 

Kent. Service. 



TRAGEDY OF KIWG LEAR 39 

Lear. Who wouldst thou serve? 

Kent. You. 

Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow? 

Kent. No, sir; but you have that in your countenance 
which I would fain call master. 

Lear, What 's that? 

Kent. Authority. ^" 

Lear. What services canst thou do? 

Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious 
tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly ; that 
which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the 
best of me is diligence. 

Lear. How old art thou? 

Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor 
so old to dote on her for any thing; I have years on my 
back forty-eight. ^^ 

Lear. Follow me ; thou shalt serve me : if I like thee no 
worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. — Dinner, 
ho, dinner! Where's my knave? my fool? — Go you, and 
call my fool hither. — [Exit an Attendant. 

Enter Oswald. 

You, you, sirrah, where 's my daughter? 

Oswald. So please you, — [Exit. 

Lear. Wliat says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll 
back. — [Exit a Knight.] Where's my fool, ho? I think 
the world 's asleep. — [Re-enter Knight. ] How now ! where's 
that mongrel ? 

Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. 

Lear. Why came not the slave back to me when I called 
him? ^2 



40 THE CEAT^E CT.ASSTCS 

Knight. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he 
would not. 

Lear. He would not! 

Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is ; but, to 
my judgment, your highness is not entertained with that 
ceremonious affection as you were wont: there's a great 
abatement of kindness appears as well in the general de- 
pendents as in the duke himself also and your daughter. 

Lear. Ha ! sayest thou so ? ®^ 

Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mis- 
taken ; for my duty cannot be silent when I think your high- 
ness wronged. 

Lear. Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception. 
I have perceived a most faint neglect of late ; which I have 
rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very 
pretence and purpose of unkindness. I will look further 
into't. But where 's my fool? I have not seen him this 
two days. '^^ 

Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the 
fool hath much pined away. 

Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. — Go you, 
and tell my daughter I would speak with her. — [Exit an At- 
tendant.] Go you, call hither my fool. — 

[Exit an Attendant. 
Re-enter Oswald. 
0, you sir, you, come you hither, sir. ^Yho am I, sir? 

Oswald. My lady's father. 

Lear. 'My lady's father'? my lord's knave. You whore- 
son dog! you slave! you cur! 

Oswald. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your 
pardon. ^^ 

Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? 

[Striking him. 



TEAGEDY 'OF KING LEAR 41 

Oswald. I'll not be strucken, my lord. 

Kent. Nor tripped neither, you base foot-ball player. 

[Tripping up his heels. 

Lear. I thank thee, fellow ; thou servest me, and I '11 love 
thee. 

Kent. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences; 
away, away ! If you will measure your lubber's length again, 
tarry: but away! goto; have you wisdom? so. 

[Pushes Oswald out. 

Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's 
earnest of thy service. ^^ 

Enter Fool. 

Fool. Let me hire him too. — Here's my coxcomb. 

Lear. How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou? 

Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. 

Kent. Why, fool? 

Fool. Why? for taking one's part that's out of favour. 
Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou 'It catch 
cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow 
has banished two on 's daughters, and did the third a bless- 
ing against his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs 
wear m}^ coxcomb. — How now, nuncle! Would I had two 
coxcombs and two daughters! ^"^ 

Lear. Why, my boy? 

Fool. If I gave them all my living, I 'd keep my coxcombs 
myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters. 

Lear. Take heed, sirrah; the whip. 

Fool. Truth 's a dog must to kennel : he must be whipped 
out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink. 

Lear. A pestilent gall to me! 

Fool. Sirrah, I '11 teach thee a speech. "® 

Lear. Do. 



42 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Fool. Mark it^ nuncle: 

Have more than thou showest, 
Speak less than thou knowest, 
Lend less than thou owest, 
Ride more than thou goest, 
Learn more than thou trowest, 
Set less than thou thro west; 
And thou shalt have more 
Than two tens to a score. ^^^ 

Kent. This is nothing, fool. 

Fool. Then 't is like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you 
gave me nothing for 't. — Can you make no use of nothing, 
nuncle ? 

Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of noth- 
ing. 

Fool. [To Kent] Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of his 
land comes to; he will not believe a fool. 
Lear. A bitter fool! 

Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a 
bitter fool and a sweet fool ? *^^ 

Lear. No, lad; teach me. 
Fool. That lord that counsell'd thee 

To give away thy land, 
Come place him here by me, 

Do thou for him stand : 
The sweet and bitter fool 
Will presently appear ; 
The one in motley here, 

The other found out there. ^^^ 

Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy? 
Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away; that 
thou wast born with. 



TEAGEDY OF KING LEAK 



43 



Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord. 

Fool. No, faith, lords and great men will not let me. If 
I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't; and 
ladies too, they will not let me have all the fool to myself; 
they'll be snatching. Nuncle, give me an egg, and I'll 
give thee two crowns. 

Lear. What two crowns shall they be? ^^° 

Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle and eat 
up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. Wlien thou clovest 
thy crown i' the middle, and gav'st away both parts, thou 
borest thy ass on thy back o'er the dirt: thou hadst little 
wit in thy bald crown, when thou gav'st thy golden one 
away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipped 
that first finds it so. 

[Sings] Fools had ne^er less grace in a year; 
For ivise men are grown foppish, 
And knoiv not how their wits to wear, ^^^ 

Their manners are so apish. 

Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah ? 

Fool. I have used it, nuncle, e'er since thou madest thy 
daughters thy mothers : for when thou gav'st them the rod, 
and put'st down thine own breeches, 

[Sings] Then they for sudden joy did weep, 
And I for sorrow sung, 
That such a king should play ho-peep, 
And go the fools among. 
Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool 
to lie. I would fain learn to lie. ^^^ 

Lear. An you lie, sirrah, we '11 have you whipped. 

Fool. I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are; 
they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou 'It have 
me whipped for lying, and sometimes I am whipped for 



44 THE CRAITE CLASSICS 

holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing than 
a fool: and yet I would not be thee, nuncle; thou hast 
pared thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing i' the middle. 
Here comes one o' the parings. 

Enter Goneril. 

Lear. How now, daughter ! what makes that frontlet on ? 
Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown. ^^^ 

Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need 
to care for her frowning ; now thou art an without a fig- 
ure. I am better than thou art now; I am a fool, thou 
art nothing. — [To Goneril] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my 
tongue; so your face bids me, though you say nothing. 
Mum, mum; 

He that keeps nor crust nor crum, 

Weary of all, shall want some. — 

That 's a shealed peascod. ^^^ 

Goneril. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool, 
But other of your insolent retinue 
Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth 
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, 
I had thought, by making this well known unto you. 
To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful. 
By what yourself too late have spoke and done, 
That you protect this course, and put it on 
By your allowance ; which if you should, the fault 
Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep, ^"^ 

Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal. 
Might in their working do you that offence. 
Which else were shame, that then necessity 
Will call discreet proceeding. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 45 

Fool. For, you know, nuncle, 

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, 
That it 's had it head hit off by it young. 
So out went the candle, and we were left darkling. 

Lear. Are you our daughter ? 

Goneril. Come, sir, ^^" 

I would you would make use of that good wisdom 
Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away 
These dispositions which of late transport you 
From what you rightly are. 

Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the 
horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee. 

Lear. Does any here know me ? This is not Lear. 
Does Lear walk thus? speak thus? Wliere are his eyes? 
Either his notion weakens, his discernings 
Are lethargied — Ha! waking? 't is not so. ^^® 

A\Tio is it that can tell me who I am? 

Fool. Lear's shadow. 

Lear. I would learn that; for, by the marks of sover- 
eignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded 
I had daughters. 

Fool. Which they will make an obedient father. 

Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman? 

Goneril. This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour 
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you 
To understand my purposes aright; ^ ^^^ 

As you are old and reverend, you should be wise. 
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires ; 
Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold, 
That this our court, infected with their manners. 
Shows like a riotous inn : epicurism and lust 
Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel 



46 



THE CEANE CLASSICS 



Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak 

For instant remedy. Be then desir'd 

By her, that else will take the thing she begs, 

A little to disquantity your train; 2*^ 

And the remainder, that shall still depend. 

To be such men as may besort your age, 

Wliich know themselves and you. 

Lear. Darkness and devils! — 

Saddle my horses! call my train together! — 
Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee. 
Yet have I left a daughter. 

Goneril. You strike my people, and your disorder' d rabble 
Make servants of their betters. 

Enter Albany. 

Lear. Woe, that too late repents. — 0, sir, are you come? 
Is it your will? Speak, sir. — Prepare my horses. — !!^ 
Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend. 
More hideous when thou shov/'st thee in a child 
Than the sea-monster! 

Albany. Pi*tiy, sir, be patient. 

Lear. Detested kite! thou liest; 
My train are men of choice and rarest parts. 
That all particulars of duty know. 
And in the most exact regard support 
The worships of their name. — most small fault, 
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show! ^^^ 

Which, like an engine, WTcnch'd my frame of nature 
From the fix'd place, drew from my heart all love, 
And added to the gall. Lear, Lear, Lear! 
Beatjat this gate, that let thy folly in, [Striking his head. 
And thy dear judgment out! — Go, go, my people. 



TKAGEDY OF KING LEAK 47 

Albany. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant 
Of what hath mov'd you. 

Lear. It may be so, my lord. — 

Hear, Nature, hear; dear goddess, hear! 
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend ^''^ 

To make this creature fruitful ; 
Into her womb convey sterility ; 
Dry up in her the organs of increase, 
And from her derogate body never spring 
A babe to honour her ! If she must teem , 
Create her child of spleen, that it may live 
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her! 
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth, 
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks. 
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits ^- ** 

To laughter and contempt ; that she may feel . 

Hov/ sharper than a serpent's tooth it is ' 

To have a thankless child! — Away, away! [Exit. 

Albany. Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? 

Goneril. Never afflict yourself to know the cause, 
But let his disposition have that scope 
That dotage gives it. 

Re-enter Lear. 

Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap! 

Within a fortnight! 
Albany. What's the matter, sir? ^'^ 

Lear. I'll tell thee. — Life and death! I am asham'd 

That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ; 

That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, 

Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee! 

Th' untented woundings of a father's curse 



48 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

Pierce every sense about thee! — Old fond eyes, 

Beweep this cause again, I '11 pluck ye out, 

And cast you, with the waters that you lose. 

To temper clay. — Ha! is it come to this? 

Let it be so. I have another daughter, ^"^ 

Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable. 

When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails 

She '11 flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find 

That I '11 resume the shape which thou dost think 

I have cast off for ever ; thou shalt, I warrant thee. 

[Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Attendants. 
Goneril. Do you mark that, my lord? 
Albany. I cannot be so partial, Goneril, 
To the great love I bear you, — 

Goneril. Pray you, content. — AVhat, Oswald, ho! — 
You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master. ^^^ 

Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry ; take the fool with 
thee. — 

A fox, when one has caught her, 
And such a daughter. 
Should sure to the slaughter. 
If my cap would buy a halter. 
So the fool follows after. [Exit. 

Goneril. This man hath had good counsel! A hundred 
knights ! 
'T is politic and safe to let him keep ^^^ 

At point a hundred knights ; yes, that, on every dream. 
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, 
He may enguard his dotage with their powers, 
And hold our lives in mercy. — Oswald, I say ! 
Albany. Well, you may fear too far. 
Goneril. Safer than trust too far. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 49 

Let me still take away the harms I fear, 

Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart. 

What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister; 

If she sustain him and his hmidred knights, ^^^ 

When I have show'd the mifitness, — 

Re-enter Oswald. 

How now, Oswald! 
What, have you writ that letter to my sister? 

Oswald. Ay, madam. 

Goneril. Take you some company, and away to horse ; 
Inform her full of my particular fear. 
And thereto add such reasons of your own 
As may compact it more. Get you gone ; 
And hasten yaur return. — [Exit Oswald.] No, no, my lord, 
This milky gentleness and course of yours, ^^^ 

Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, 
You are much more at task for want of wisdom 
Than prais'd for harmful mildness. 

Albany. How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell; 
Striving to better, oft we mar what 's well. 

Goneril. Nay, then — 

Albany. Well, well; the event. [Exeunt. 

Scene V. Court before the Same. 
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 

Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these letters. Ac- 
quaint my daughter no further with any thing you know 
than comes from her demand out of the letter. If your dil- 
igence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you. 
—4 



50 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your 
letter. [Exit. 

Fool. If a man's brains were in 's heels, were 't not in 
danger of kibes? 

Lear. Ay, boy. 

Fool. Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall ne'er go 
slip shod. " 

Lear. Ha, ha, ha! 

Fool. Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; 
for though she 's as like this as a crab 's like an apple, yet 
I can tell what I can tell. 

Lear. AVhat canst tell, boy? 

Fool. She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. 
Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' the middle on 's face ? 

Lear. No. 

Fool. AA^iy, to keep one's eyes of either side 's nose, that 
Avhat a man cannot smell out, he may spy into. ^^ 

Lear. I did her wrong — 

Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? 

Lear. No. 

Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a 
house. 

Lear. Why? 

Fool. Why, to put's head in; not to give it away to his 
daughters, and leave his horns without a case. 

Lear. I will forget my nature. So kind a father ! — Be my 
horses ready? ^^ 

Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the 
seven stars are no moe than seven is a pretty reason. 

Lear. Because they are not eight? 

Fool. Yes, indeed ; thou wouldst make a good fool. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 51 

Lear. To take 't again perforce! Monster ingratitude! 

FooL If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I 'd have thee beaten 
for being old before thy time. 

Lear. How's that? 

Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst 
been wise. ^^ 

Lear. 0, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! 
Keep me in temper : I would not be mad ! — 

Enter Gentleman. 

How now! are the horses ready? 
Gentleman. Ready, my lord. 
Lear. Come, boy. [Exeunt. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. The Earl of Gloster's Castle. 
Enter Edmund and Curan, meeting. 

Edmund. Save thee, Curan. 

Curan. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and 
given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his 
duchess will be here with him this night. 

Edmund. How comes that? 

Curan. Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news 
abroad; I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but 
ear-kissing arguments? 

Edmund. Not I ; pray you, what are they ? 

Curan. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt 
the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany? " 

Edmund. Not a word. 

Curan. You may do then in time. Fare you well, sir. 

[Exit. 

Edmund. The duke be here to-night ? The better! best! 
This weaves itself perforce into my business. 
My father hath set guard to take my brother ; 
And I have one thing, of a queasy question. 
Which I must act. Briefness and fortune, work! — 
Brother, a word; descend! Brother, I say! 

Enter Edgar. 

My father watches! sir, fly this place! ^^ 

Intelligence is given where you are hid; 

You have now the good advantage of the night. 

(52) 



TEAGEDY OF K:iiq"G 3LEAR 



53 



Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall ? 
He 's coming hither, now, i' the night, i' the haste, 
And Regan with him ; have you nothing said 
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany? 
Advise yourself. 

Edgar. I am sure on 't, not a word. 

Edmund. I hear my father coming. Pardon me; 
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you. ^" 

Draw ; seem to defend yourself ; now quit you well. 
Yield! come before my father! — Light, ho, here! — 
Fly, brother! Torches, torches! — So, farewell. 

[Exit Edgar. 
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 
Of my more fierce endeavour. I have seen drimkards 
Do m.ore than this in sport. — Father, father! — 
Stop, stop!— No help? 

Enter Gloster, and Servants with torches. 

Gloster. Now, Edmund, where 's the villain? 

Edmund. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out. 
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon 
To stand auspicious mistress. ^^ 

Gloster. But where is he? 

Edmund. Look, sir, I bleed. 

Gloster. Where is the villain, Edmund? 

Edmund. Fled this way, sir, when by no means he could — 

Gloster. Pursue him, ho! Go after. — [Exeunt some Ser- 
vants.] By no means what? 

Edmund. Persuade me to the murther of your lordship; 
But that I told him the revenging gods 
'Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend, 
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond 



54 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

The child was bound to the father; — sir, in fine, 

Seeing how loathly opposite I stood 

To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion 

With his prepared sword he charges home 

My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm : 

But when he saw my best alarum' d spirits 

Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encoimter, 

Or whether gasted by the noise I made, 

Full suddenly he fled. 

Gloster. Let him fly afar : 

Not in this land shah he remain uncaught; 
And found — dispatch. The noble duke my master. 
My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night. 
By his authority I will proclaim it, 
That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks. 
Bringing the murtherous coward to the stake; 
He that conceals him, death. 

Edmund. When I dissuaded him from his intent, 
And found him pight to do it with curst speech, 
I threaten'd to discover him; he replied : 
^Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think, 
If I would stand against thee, would the reposal 
Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee 
Make thy words faith'd? No; what I should deny— 
As this I would,— ay, though thou didst produce 
My very character — I'd turn it all 
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice ; 
And thou must make a dullard of the world. 
If they not thought the profits of my death 
Were very pregnant and potential spurs 
To make thee seek it.' 

Gloster. Strong and fasten'd villain! 



TRAGEDY OF IvTNG LEAR 55 

Would he deny his letter? I never got him. [Tucket within. 

Hark, the duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes. 

All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not scape: 

The duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture 

I will send far and near, that all the kingdom 

May have due note of him ; and of my land, 

Loyal and natural boy, I '11 work the means 

To make thee capable. 

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants. 

Cornwall. How now, my noble friend ! since I came hither, 
Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news. ^^ 

Regan. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short 
Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord? 

Gloster. 0, madam, my old heart is crack'd, — it 's crack'd! 

Regan. What, did my father's godson seek your life? 
He whom my father nam'd? your Edgar? 

Gloster. 0, lady, lady, shame would have it hid! 

Regan. Was he not companion with the riotous knights 
That tend upon my father? 

Gloster. I know not, madam.— 'Tis too bad, too bad. 

Edmund. Yes, madam, he was of that consort. ^"^ 

Regan. No marvel then, though he were ill affected; 
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death. 
To have th' expense and waste of his revenues. 
I have this present evening from my sister 
Been well inform' d of them, and with such cautions 
That if they come to sojourn at my house, 
I '11 not be there. 

Cornivall. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. — 

Edmund, I hear that you have shown j^our father "" 

A child-like office. 



56 THE CKAN-E CLASSICS 

Edmund. 'Twas my duty, sir. 

Gloster. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd 
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. 

Cornwall. Is he pursued? 

Gloster. Ay, my good lord. 

Cornwall. If he be taken, he shall never more 
Be f ear'd of doing harm ; make your own purpose, 
How in my strength you please. — For you, Edmund, 
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant ^^^ 

So much commend itself, you shall be ours. 
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; 
You we first seize on. 

Edmund. I shall serve you, sir. 

Truly, however else. 

Gloster. For him I thank your grace. 

Cornwall. You know not why we came to visit you? 

Regan. Thus, out of season, threading dark-eyed night; 
Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poise. 
Wherein we must have use of your advice. ^^^ 

Our father he hath wTit, so hath our sister. 
Of differences, which I best thought it fit 
To answer from our home ; the several messengers 
From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend. 
Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow 
Your needful counsel to our businesses, 
WHiich craves the instant use. 

Gloster. I serve you, madam. — 

Your graces are quite welcome. [Flourish. Exeunt. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 57 

Scene II. Before Gloster^s Castle. 
Enter Kent and Oswald, severally. 

Oswald. Good dawning to thee, friend ; art of this house ? 

Kent. Ay. 

Oswald. Where may we set our horses ? 

Kent. V the mire. 

Oswald. Prithee, if thou lov'st me, tell me. 

Kent. 1 love thee not. 

Oswald. Why then I care not for thee. 

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make 
thee care for me. 

Oswald. Why dost thou use me thus ? I know thee not. 

Kent. Fellow, I know thee. ^^ 

Oswald. What dost thou know me for? 

Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a 
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, himdred- 
pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, ac- 
tion-taking whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, fini- 
cal rogue ; one-trmik-inheriting slave ; one that wouldst be 
a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the 
composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the 
son and heir of a mongrel bitch ; one whom I will beat into 
clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy 
addition. ^^ 

Oswald. Wliy, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to 
rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee! 

Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou 
knowest me! Is it two days ago since I tripped up thy 
heels, and beat thee before the king? Draw, you rogue! 
for, though it be night, yet the moon shines; I '11 make a 
sop o' the moonshine of you ; you whoreson cullionly bar- 
ber-mongrel, draw. 



58 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

Oswald. Away! I have nothing to do with thee. ^^ 

Kent. Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against 
the king, and take vanity the puppet's part against the 
royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or I '11 so carbon- 
ado your shanks! draw, you rascal! come your ways! 

Oswald. Help, ho! murther! help! 

Kent. Strike, you slave! stand, rogue, stand! you neat 
slave, strike! [Beating him. 

Oswald. Help, ho! murther! murther! 

Enter Edmund, with his rapier drawn. 

Edmund. How now! What's the matter? [Parting them. 

Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please ; come, I '11 

flesh ye! come on, young master! ^^ 

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants. 

Gloster. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here? 

Cornwall. Keep peace, upon your lives! 
He dies that strikes again! AVhat is the matter? 

Regan. The messengers from our sister and the king? 

Cornwall. What is your difference? speak. 

Oswald. I am scarce in breath, my lord. 

Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You 
cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made 
thee. -'^ 

Cornwall. Thou art a strange fellow ; a tailor make a man ? 

Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir ; a stone-cutter or a painter could 
not have made him so ill, though they had been but two 
hours o' the trade. 

Cornwall. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? 

Oswald. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared 
at suit of his grey beard, — 



TRAGEDY OF KIN"G LEAR 



59 



Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! — 
My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this 
unbolted villain into mortar. — Spare my grey beard, you 
wagtail? '' 

Cornwall. Peace, sirrah! — 
You beastly knave, know you no reverence? 

Kent. Yes, sir ; but anger hath a privilege. 

Cornwall. Why art thou angry? 

Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword. 
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these. 
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain 
Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion 
That in the natures of their lords rebel, '^ 

Being oil to fire, snow to the colder moods ; 
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks 
With every gale and vary of their masters, 
Knowing nought, like dogs, but following. 
A plague upon your epileptic visage ! 
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool? 
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, 
I 'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot. 

Cornwall. Wliat, art thou mad, old fellow? ^^ 

Gloster. How fell you out? say that. 

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy 
Than I and such a knave. 

Cornwall. Why dost thou call him knave? What is his 
fault? 

Kent. His countenance likes me not. 

Corniuall. No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor 
hers. 

Kent. Sir, 't is my occupation to be plain; 
I have seen better faces in my time 



60 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Than stands on any shoulder that I see 
Before me at this instant. 

Cornwall. This is some fellow, 

Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect 
A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb 
Quite from his nature ; he cannot flatter, he, — 
An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth! 
An they will take it, so ; if not, he 's plain. 
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness 
Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends ^^^ 

Than twenty silly-ducking observants 
That stretch their duties nicely. 

Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity. 
Under the allowance of your great aspect. 
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire 
On flickering Phoebus' front, — 

Cornwall. Wliat mean'st by this? 

Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so 
much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer : he that beguiled you 
in a plain accent was a plain knave; which for my part I 
will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat 
me to 't. "2 

Cornwall. ^Vhat was the offence you gave him? 

Oswald. I never gave him any. 
It pleas' d the king his master very late 
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction ; 
'When he compact, and flattering his displeasure, 
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd, 
And put upon him such a deal of man. 
That worthied him, got praises of the king ^^® 

For him attempting who was self-subdu'd; 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 61 

And in the fleshment of this dread exploit 
Drew on me here again. 

Kent. None of these rogues and cowards 

But Ajax is their fool. 

Cornwall. Fetch forth the stocks! — 

You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, 
We '11 teach you — 

Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn; 

Call not your stocks for me. I serve the king, ^^^ 

On whose employment I was sent to you. 
You shall do smah respect, show^ too bold malice 
Against the grace and person of my master, 
Stocking his messenger. 

Cornwall. Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and 
honour. 
There shall he sit till noon. 

Regan. Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too. 

Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog. 
You should not use me so. ^^'^ 

Regan. Sir, being his knave, I will. 

Cornwall. This is a fellow of the self-same colour 
Our sister speaks of. — Come, bring away the stocks! 

[Stocks brought out 

Glosfer. Let me beseech your grace not to do so. 
His fault is much, and the good king his master 
Will check him for 't ; your purpos'd low correction 
Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches 
For pilferings and most com.mon trespasses 
Are pimish'd with. The king must take it ill. 
That he, so slightly valued in his messenger, ^^^ 

Should have him thus restrain'd. 

Cornwall. I'll answer that. 



62 THE CRAI^E CLASSICS 

Regan. My sister may receive it much more worse, 
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted, 
For following her affairs. — Put in his legs. 

[Kent is put in the stocks. 
Come, my lord, away. [Exeunt all hut Gloster and Kent. 

Gloster. I am sorry for thee, friend; 't is the duke's 
pleasure, 
Wliose disposition, all the world wtII know^s, 
Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd. I '11 entreat for thee. ^^^ 

Kent. Pray, do not, sir. I have watch'd and travel' d hard; 
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll w^histle 
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels. 
Give you good morrow! 

Gloster. [Aside] The duke 's to blame in this; 't will be 
ill taken. [Exit. 

Kent. Good king, that must approve the common saw, 
Thou out of heaven's benediction comest 
To the warm sun! 

Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, "^ 

That by thy comfortable beams I may 
Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles 
But misery. I know 't is from Cordelia, 
\^Tio hath most fortunately been inform' d 
Of my obscured course ; and shall find time 
From this enormous state, seeking to give 
Losses their remedies. All weary and o'er-watch'd. 
Take vantage, heavj^ eyes, not to behold 
This shameful lodging. 

Fortune, good night : smile once more ; turn thy wheel ! 

[Sleeps. 



TRAGEDY OF KIN^G LEAR 63 

Scene III. A Part of the Heath. 
Enter Edgar. 
Edgar. I heard myself proclaim'd; 
And by the happy hollow of a tree 
Escap'd the hunt. No port is free; no place, 
That guard and most unusual vigilance 
Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape 
I will preserve myself, and am bethought 
To take the basest and most poorest shape 
That ever penur^^, in contempt of man, 
Brought near to beast ; my face I '11 grime with filth, 
Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots, ^ 

And with presented nakedness outface 
The winds and persecutions of the sky. 
The country gives me proof and precedent 
Of Bedlam beggars, who with roaring voices 
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary; 
And with this horrible object, from low farms, 
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills, 
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, 
Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom! ^^ 
That's something yet; Edgar I nothing am. [Exit. 

Scene IV. Before Gloster's Castle. 
Kent in the Stocks. Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman. 

Lear. 'T is strange that they should so depart from home, 
And not send back my messenger. 

Gentleman. As I learn' d, 

The night before there was no purpose in them 
Of this remove. 



64 THE CRAIs^E CLASSICS 

Kent. Hail to thee, noble master! 

Lear. Ha! 
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime? 

Kent. No, my lord. 

Fool. Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied 
by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the 
loins, and men by the legs; when a man 's over-lusty at 
legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks. ^^ 

Lear. Wliat 's he that hath so much thy place mistook 
To set thee here? 

Kent. It is both he and she, 

Your son and daughter. 

Lear. No. 

Kent. Yes. 

Lear. No, I say. ^^ 

Kent. I say, yea. 

Lear. No, no, they would not. 

Kent. Yes, they have. 

Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no! 

Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay! 

Lear. They durst not do 't; 

They could not, would not do 't ; 't is worse than murther 
To do upon respect such violent outrage. 
Resolve me with all modest haste which way 
Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage, ^" 

Coming from us. 

Kent. My lord, when at their home 

I did commend your highness' letters to them, 
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd 
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, '■ 
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth 
From Goneril his mistress salutations ; 



TRAGEDY OF KING I.EAR 65 

Deliver' d letters, spite of intermission, 

Which presently they read : on whose contents 

They summon' d up their meiny, straight took horse, '*" 

Commanded me to follow and attend 

The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks ; 

And meeting here the other messenger. 

Whose welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine — 

Being the very fellow which of late 

Display'cl so saucily against your highness — 

Having more man than wit about me, drew : 

He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries. 

Your son and daughter found this trespass worth 

The shame which here it suffers. ^^ 

Fool Winter 's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. 
Fathers that wear rags 

Do make their children blind; 
But fathers that bear bags 
Shall see their children kind. — 
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy 
daughters as thou canst tell in a year. 

Lear. 0, how this mother swells up toward my heart! 
Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow. 
Thy element's below! — AVhere is this daughter? ^" 

Kent. With the earl, sir, here within. 

Lear. Follow me not; stay here. [Exit. 

Gentleman. Made you no more offence but what you 
speak of? 

Kent. None. — 
How chance the king comes with so small a number? 

Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that ques- 
tion, thou 'cist well deserve it. 

Kent, Why, fool? 



66 THE CKANE CLASSICS 

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee 
there's no labouring i' the whiter. All that follow their 
noses are led by their eyes but blind men ; and there 's not 
a nose among twenty but can smell him that's stinking. 
Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it 
break thy neck w^ith following it; but the great one that 
goes upward, let him draw thee after. "When a wise man 
gives the better counsel, give me mine again ; I would have 
none but knaves follow.it, since a fool gives it. 

That sir which serves and seeks for gain, 

And follows but for form, *^ 

Will pack when it begins to rain. 

And leave thee in the storm. 
But I will tarry ; the fool will stay. 

And let the wise man fly : 
The knave turns fool that runs away; 
The fool no knave, perdy.. 
Kent. AVhere learned you this, fool? 
Fool. Not i' the stocks, fool! 

Re-enter Lear, with Gloster. 

Lear. Deny to speak with me ? They are sick? they are 
weary ? ^° 

They have travel'd all the night? Mere fetches, 
The images of revolt and flying off. 
Fetch me a better answer. 

Gloster. My dear lord, 

You know the fiery quality of the duke ; 
How unremovable and fix'd he is 
In his own course. 

Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 



67 



Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster, 

I 'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. ^"" 

Gloster. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. 

Lear. Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man? 

Gloster. Ay, my good lord. 

Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear 
father 
Would with his daughter speak, commands her service. 
Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood! 
Fiery? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke that— 
No, but not yet ; may be he is not well. 
Infirmity doth still neglect all office "" 

Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves 
When nature being oppress' d commands the mind 
To suffer with the body. I'll forbear; 
And am fallen out with my more headier will, 
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit 
For the sound man. — Death on my state! wherefore 
Should he sit here? This act persuades me 
That this remotion of the duke and her 
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. 
Go tell the duke and 's wife I 'd speak with them, ^"^^ 

Now, presently ; bid them come forth and hear me, 
Or at their chamber-door I '11 beat the drum 
Till it cry sleep to death. 

Gloster. I would have all well betwixt you. [Exit. 

Lear. me, my heart, my rising heart ! But, down ! 

Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels 
when she put 'em i' the paste alive; she knapped 'em o' 
the coxcombs with a stick, and cried ^Down, wantons, down !' 
'T was her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse, but- 
tered his hay. ^^^ 



68 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Re-enter Gloster, ivith Cornwall, Regan, and Servants. 

Lear. Good morrow to you both. 

Cornwall. Hail to your grace! 

[Kent is set at liberty. 

Regan. I am glad to see your highness. 

Lear. Regan, I think you are ; I know what reason 
I have to think so : if thou shouldst not be glad, 
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb. 
Sepulchring an adulteress. — [To Kent] 0, are you free? 
Some other time for that. — Beloved Regan, 
Thy sister 's naught. Regan, she hath tied 
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here! "* 

[Points to his heart. 
I can scarce speak to thee ; thou 'It not believe 
With how deprav'd a quality — Regan! 

Regan. I pray you, sir, take patience; I have hope 
You less know how to value her desert 
Than she to scant her duty. 

Lear. Say, how is that? 

Regan. I cannot think my sister in the least 
Would fail her obligation ; if, sir, perchance 
She have restrain' d the riots of your followers, 
'T is on such ground and to such wholesome end ^^^ 

As clears her from all blame. 

Lear. My curses on her! 

Regan. 0, sir, you are old; 

Nature in you stands on the very verge 
Of her confine : you should be rul'd and led 
By some cUscretion that discerns your state 
Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you 
That to our sister you do make return ; 
Say you have wrong' d her, sir. 



TEAGEDY OF KII^G LEAR 69 

Lear. Ask her forgiveness? ^^® 

Do you but mark how this becomes the house : 
'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old; 
Age is unnecessary : on my knees I beg 
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.' 

Regan. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks. 
Return you to my sister. 

Lear. Never, Regan! 

She hath abated me of half my train, 
Look'd black upon me, strook me with her tongue, 
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. ^^° 

All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall 
On her ingrateful top ! Strike her young bones. 
You taking airs, with lameness! 

Cornivall. Fie, sir, fie! 

Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames 
Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty. 
You fen-suck' d fogs, drawn by the powerful sun. 
To fall and blast her pride! 

Regan. the blest gods! so will you wish on me. 
When the rash mood is on. . iso 

Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse ; 
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give 
Thee o'er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce, but thine 
Do comfort and not burn. 'T is not in thee 
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train. 
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 
And in conclusion to oppose the bolt 
Against my coming in: thou better know'st 
The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude; ^®® 

Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot, 



70 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

Wherein I thee endow 'd. 

Regan. Good sir, to the purpose. 

Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks? [Tucket within. 

Cornwall. What trumpet 's that? 

Regan. I know 't, — my sister's; this approves her letter, 
That she would soon be here. — 

Enter Oswald. 

Is your lady come? 
Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow^'d pride 
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. — -"^ 

Out, varlet, from my sight! 

Cornwall. What means your grace? 

Lear. Wlio stock'd my servant? — Regan, I have good 
hope 
Thou didst not know on't. — Who comes here? 

Enter Goneril. 

heavens. 
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, 
Make it your cause; send down, and take my part! — 
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard? — ^^® 

Regan, w^ill you take her by the hand? 

Goneril. Why not by the hand, sir? How have I of- 
fended? 
All's not offence that indiscretion finds 
And dotage terms so. 

Lear. sides, you are too tough ; 

Will you yet hold? — How came my man i' the stocks? 

Cornwall. I set him there, sir ; but his own disorders 
Deserv'd much less advancement. 

Lear. You! did you? ''' 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 71 

Regan. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. 
If, till the expiration of your month. 
You will return and sojourn with my sister. 
Dismissing half your train, come then to me ; 
I am now from home, and out of that provision 
Which shall be needful for your entertainment. 

Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismissed? 
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 
To wage against the enmity o' the air. 
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl. — "^^ 

Necessity's sharp pinch! — Return with her? 
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took 
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought 
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg 
To keep base life afoot. Return with her? 
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter 
To this detested groom. [Pointing at Oswald. 

Goneril. At your choice, sir. 

Lear. I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad. 
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell. ^^^ 

We'll no more meet, no more see one another. 
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; 
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh. 
Which I must needs call mine ; thou art a boil, 
A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle. 
In my corrupted blood. But I '11 not chide thee ; 
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it : 
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. 
Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure. ^"^^ 

I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, 
I and my hundred knights. 



i^ THE CKAWE CLASSICS 

Regan. Not altogether so; 

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided 
For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; 
For those that mingle reason with your passion 
Must be content to think you old, and so — 
But she knows what she does. 

Lear. Is this well spoken? 

Regan. I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers? ^^^ 
Is it not well? What should you need of more? 
Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger 
Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house, 
Should many people under two commands 
Hold amity? 'T is hard, almost impossible. 

Goneril. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance 
From those that she calls servants or from mine? 

Regan. Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd to slack 

ye, 

We could control them. If you will come to me, — ^^^ 
For now I spy a danger, — I entreat you 
To bring but five and twenty ; to no more 
Will I give place or notice. 

Lear. I gave you all — 

Regan. And in good time you gave it. 

Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; 
But kept a reservation to be follow' d 
With such a number. What, must I come to you 
With five and twenty, Regan ? said you so ? 

Regan. And speak 't again, my lord; no more with me. 

Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour' d, 
When others are more wicked ; not being the worst ^^^ 
Stands in some rank of praise. [To Goneril] I '11 go with 
thee; 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 73 

Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, 
And thou art twice her love. 

Goneril. Hear me, my lord ; 

AVhat need you five and twenty, ten, or five. 

To follow in a house where twice so many ; 

Have a command to tend you? ^^^ 

Regan. What need one? 

Lear. 0, reason not the need ; our basest beggars 
Are in the poorest things superfluous. 
Allow not nature more than nature needs, 
Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady ; 
If only to go warm were gorgeous. 
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, 
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But for true need — 
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! 
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, ^"^ 

As full of grief as age; wretched in both. 
If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts 
Against their father, fool me not so much 
To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger, 
And let not women's weapons, water-drops. 
Stain my man's cheeks! — No, you unnatural hags, 
I will have such revenges on you both. 
That all the world shall — I will do such things, — 
What they are, yet I know not ; but they shall be 
The terrors of the earth. You think I '11 weep ; ^^^ 

No, I'll not weep. 

I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart 
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws. 
Or ere I'll weep. — fool, I shall go mad! 

[Exeunt, Lear, Gloster, Kent, and Fool. 
Storm and tempest. 



74 THE CRAT^E CLASSICS 

Cornwall. Let us withdraw ; 't will be a storm. 

Regan. This house is little ; the old man and 's people 
Cannot be well bestow'd. 

Goneril. 'T is his own blame ; hath put himself from rest, 
And must needs taste his folly. 

Regan. For his particular, I '11 receive him gladly, ^^" 
But not one follower. 

Goneril. So am I purpos'd. 

Where is my lord of Gloster? 

Cornwall. FollowVl the old man forth: he is returned. 

Re-enter Gloster. 

Gloster. The king is in high rage. 

Cormvall. Whither is he going? 

Gloster. He calls to horse, but will I know not whither. 

Cornwall. 'T is best to give him way ; he leads himself. 

Goneril. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. 

Gloster. Alack! the night comes on, and the high winds 
Do sorely ruffle ; for many miles about ^^' 

There's scarce a bush. 

Regan. 0, sir, to wilful men. 

The injuries that they themselves procure 
Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. 
He is attended with a desperate train ; 
And what they may incense him to, being apt 
To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear. 

Cornwall. Shut up your doors, my lord; 't is a wild 
night: ''" 

My Regan counsels well. Come out o' the storm. 

[Exeunt . 



ACT III. 
Scene I. A Heath. 
Storm still. Enter Kent a7id a Gentleman, meeting. 

Kent. Who 's there, besides foul weather? 

Gentleman. One minded like the weather, most unquietly 

Kent. I know you. Where's the king? 

Gentleman. Contending with the fretful elements; 
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, 
That things might change or cease ; tears his white hair. 
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage. 
Catch in their fur}^, and make nothing of; 
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. 
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, 
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, 
And bids what will take all. 

Kent. But who is with him? 

Gentleman. None but the fool, who labours to outjest 
His heart-strook injuries. 

Kent. Sir, I do know you. 

And dare, upon the warrant of my note, ^ 

Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, 
Although as yet the face of it is cover' d 
With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall ; 
Who have — as who have not, that their great stars 
Thron'd and set high? — servants, who seem no less, 

(75) 



76 THE CEAN^E CLASSICS 

Which are to France the spies and speculations 
InteUigent of our state. What hath been seen, 
Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes, 
Or the hard rein which both of them have borne 
Against the old kind king, or something deeper, 
Whereof perchance these are but furnishings, — 
But, true it is, from France there comes a power 
Into this scatter' d kingdom ; who already. 
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet 
In some of our best ports, and are at point 
To show their open banner. Now to you; 
If on my credit you dare build so far 
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find 
Some that will thank you, making just report 
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow 
The king hath cause to plain. 
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding. 
And from some knowledge and assurance offer 
This office to you. 

Gentleman. I will further talk with you. 

Kent. No, do not. 

For confirmation that I am much more 
Than my out-wall, open this purse and take 
Wliat it contains. If you shall see Cordelia, — 
As fear not but you shall, — show her this ring ; 
And she will tell you who that fellow is 
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm! 
I will go seek the king. 

Gentleman. Give me your hand; 

Have you no more to say? 

Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet; 



TRAGEDY OF KIN^G LEAR 77 

That, when we have found the king, — in which your pain 

That way, I '11 this,— he that first lights on him 

Holla the other. [Exeunt severally. 

Scene II. Another part of the Heath. Storm still. 
Enter Lear and Fool. 

Lear. Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! 
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout 
Till you have drenched our steeples, drown'd the cocks! 
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires. 
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts. 
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder. 
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! 
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once 
That make ingrateful man! * 

Fool. nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better 
than this rain-water out o' door. Good nuncle, in; ask 
thy daughters' blessing: here's a night pities neither wise 
men nor fools. 

Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! 
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters. 
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness ; 
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, 
You owe me no subscription : then let fall 
Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand, your slave, 
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man. ^° 

But yet I call you servile ministers. 
That will with two pernicious daughters join 
Your high-engender' d battles 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this. 0! 0! 't is foul! 

Fool. He that has a house to put 's head in has a good 
head-piece. 



78 THE CKANE CLASSIOS 

The man that makes his toe 

What he his heart should make 
Shall of a corn cry woe, 
And turn his sleep to wake. ^° 

For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths 
in a glass. 

Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience ; 
I will say nothing. 

Enter Kent. 

Kent. AVho 's there? 

Fool. Marry, here's a wise man and a fool. 

Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love night 
Love not such nights as these ; the wrathful skies 
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark. 
And make them keep their caves. Since I was man, ^^ 
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder. 
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
Remember to have heard ; man's nature cannot carry 
The affliction nor the fear. 

Lear. Let the great gods. 

That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, 
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch. 
That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
Unwhipp'd of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand. 
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular of virtue ^^ 

That art incestuous. Caitiff, to pieces shake. 
That under covert and convenient seeming 
Has practis'd on man's life. Close pent-up guilts. 
Rive your concealing continents and cry 
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man 
More sinn'd against than sinning. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAK 



79 



Kent. Alack, bare-headed! 

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel ; 
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. 
Repose you there, while 1 to this hard house — ^^ 

More harder than the stones whereof 't is rais'd, 
Which even but now, demanding after you. 
Denied me to come in — return, and force 
Their scanted courtesy. 

Lear. My wits begin to turn. — 

Come on, my boy; how dost, my boy? art cold? 
I am cold myself. — Where is this straw, my fellow? — 
The art of our necessities is strange. 

That can make vile things precious. — Come, your hovel. — 
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart ^^ 

That's sorry yet for thee. 

Fool. [Sings] He that has and a little tiny wit, 
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
Must make content with his fortunes fit, 
For the rain it raineth every day. 
Lear. True, boy. — Come, bring us to this hovel. 

Exeunt Lear and Kent. 
Fool. I '11 speak a prophecy ere I go : 

When priests are more in word than matter ; 

When brewers mar their malt with water ; 

Wlien nobles are their tailors' tutors ; ^^ 

No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors; 

Wlien ever}^ case in law is right ; 

No squire in debt, nor no poor knight ; 

When slanders do not live in tongues. 

Nor cutpurses come not to throngs; 

Then shall the realm of Albion 

Come to great confusion : 



80 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

Then comes the time, who hves to see 't, 
That going shall be us'cl with feet. 
This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for I live before his time. 

[Exit. 

Scene III. Gloster's Castle. 
Enter Gloster and EoaruND. 

Gloster. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this imnatural 
dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity him, 
they took from me the use of mine own house ; charged me, 
on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, 
entreat for him, or any way sustain him. 

Edmund. Most savage and unnatural! ^ 

Gloster. Go to ; say you nothing. There 's a division be- 
tween the dukes, and a worse matter than that. I have re- 
ceived a letter this night ; 't is dangerous to be spoken; I 
have locked the letter in my closet. These injuries the king 
now bears will be revenged home ; there is part of a power 
already footed: we must incline to the king. I will look 
him, and privily relieve him; go you and maintain talk 
with the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If 
he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no 
less is threatened me, the king my old master must be re- 
lieved. There is strange things toward, Edmund; pray 
you, be careful. [Exit. 

Edmund. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke 
Instantly know, and of that letter too. "° 

This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me 
That which my father loses, — no less than all. 
The younger rises when the old doth fall. [Exit. 



TRAGEDY OF KING I.EAR 81 

Scene IV. The Heath. Before a Hovel. 
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 

Kent. Here is the place, my lord ; good my lord, enter. 
The tyranny of the open night's too rough 
For nature to endure. [Storm still. 

Lear. Let me alone. 

Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 

Lear. Wilt break my heart? 

Kent. I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, en- 
ter. 

Lear. Thou think'st 't is much that this contentious 
storm ^^ 

Invades us to the skin : so 't is to thee ; 
But where the greater malady is fix'd. 
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou 'dst shun a bear; 
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea. 
Thou 'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind 's 

free 
The body 's delicate; the tempest in my mind 
Doth from my senses take all feeling else 
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! 
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand ^^ 

For lifting food to 't? But I will punish home. 
No, I will weep no more. In such a night 
To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure. 
In such a night as this! Regan, Goneril! 
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all, — 
0, that way madness lies! let me shun that; 
No more of that! 

Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 

Lear. Prithee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease. 

—6 



82 THE CEAINTE CLASSICS 

This tempest will not give nie leave to ponder ^ 

On things would hurt me more. But I '11 go in. — 
In, boy; go first. — You houseless poverty, — 
Nay, get thee in. I '11 pray, and then I '11 sleep. — 

[Fool goes in. 
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. 
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, 
Your loop'd and window' d raggedness, defend you 
From seasons such as these? 0, 1 have ta'en 
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; 
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, ^^ 

That thou mayst shake the superflux to them 
And show the heavens more just. 

Edgar. [Within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! 
Poor Tom! [The Fool runs out from the hovel. 

Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. Help me, 
help me! 

Kent. Give me thy hand. — ^^Tio's there? 

Fool. A spirit, a spirit! he says his name's poor Tom. 

Kent. AVliat art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw? 
Come forth. '' 

Enter Edgar disguised as a madman. 

Edgar. Away! the foul fiend follows me! Through the 
sharp hawthorn blow the winds. Hum! go to thy bed, and 
warm thee. 

Lear. Didst thou give all to thy daughters? And art 
thou come to this? 

Edgar. AVho gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the 
foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through 
ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 83 

knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set rats- 
bane by his porridge ; made him proud of heart, to ride on 
a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course his 
own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom 's 
a-cold. 0, do cle, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds , 
star-blasting and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, 
whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, 
and there, and there again, and there. [Storm still. 

Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this 
pass? — ^^ 

Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou give 'em all? 

Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all 
shamed. 

Lear. Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air 
Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! 

Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. 

Lear. Death, traitor! noth'ng could have subdued nature 
To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. 
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers 
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh ? 
Judicious punishment! 't was this flesh begot 
Those pelican daughters. ^^ 

Edgar. Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill ; 
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! 

Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. 

Edgar. Take heed o' the foul fiend; obey thy parents; 
keep thy word justty; swear not; commit not with man's 
sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. 
Tom 's a-cold. 

Lear. What hast thou been? ** 

Edgar. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that 
curled my hair, w^ore gloves in my cap, swore as many oaths 



84 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of 
heaven ; one that slept in the contriving of lust and waked 
to do it. Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly, and in woman 
out-paramoured the Turk; false of heart, light of ear, 
bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greed- 
iness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking 
of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to 
woman. Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy pen from lend- 
ers' books, and defy the foul fiend. — Still through the haw- 
thorn blows the cold wind ; says suum, mun, nonny. Dol- 
phin my boy, boy, sessa! let him trot by. [Storm still. 

Lear. Thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with] 
thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no 
more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the 
worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat' 
no perfume. Ha! here's three on 's are sophisticated! 
Thou art the thing itself ; unaccommodated man is no more 
but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, 
you lendings! come, unbutton here. ^°® 

Fool. Prithee, nuncle, be contented ; 't is a naughty night 
to swim in. Now a little fire in a wide field were like an 
old lecher's heart, a small spark, all the rest on 's body cold- 
Look, here comes a walking fire. 

Edgar. This is the foul Flibbertigibbet. He begins at 
curfew and walks at first cock; he gives the web and the 
pin, squints the eye, and makes the hare-lip ; mildews the 
white wheat and hurts the poor creature of earth. 
Saint Withold footed thrice the old; 
He met the nightmare and her nine-fold; 

Bid her alight, '=^' 

And her troth plight. 
And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! 






TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 85 

Enter Gloster, with a torch. 

Kent. How fares your grace? 

Lear. What 's he? 

Kent. Who's there? What is 't you seek? 

Gloster. What are you there? Your names? 

Edgar. Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, 
the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water ; that in the fury 
of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for 
sallets ; swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog ; drinks the 
green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from 
tithing to tithing, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; 
who hath three suits to his back, six shirts to his body ; 

Horse to ride, and weapon to wear ; ^^^ 

But mice and rats and such small deer 
Have been Tom's food for seven long year. 
Beware my follower. — Peace, Smulkin! peace, thou fiend! 

Gloster. What, hath your grace no better company? 

Edgar. The prince of darkness is a gentleman; Modo 
he 's called, and Mahu. 

Gloster. Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile. 
That it doth hate what gets it. ^^^ 

Edgar. Poor Tom 's a-cold. 

Gloster. Go in with me ; my duty cannot suffer 
To obey in all your daughters' hard commands. 
Though their injunction be to bar my doors 
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, 
Yet have I ventured to come seek you out. 
And bring you where both food and fire is ready. 

Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher. — ^^^ 

What is the cause of thunder? 

Kent. Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house. 



86 THE CRAlSrE CLASSICS 

Lear. I '11 talk a Avorcl with this same learned Theban. — 
What is your study? 

Edgar. How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin. 

Lear. Let me ask you one word in private. 

Kent. Importune him once more to go, my lord; 
His wits begin to unsettle. 

Gloster. Canst thou blame him? 

[Storm still. 
His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent! ^^^ 
He said it would be thus, poor banish'd man! 
Thou say 'st the king grows mad ; I '11 tell thee, friend, 
I am almost mad myself. I had a son, 
Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life. 
But lately, very late. I lov'd him, friend, 
No father his son dearer ; true to tell thee. 
The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night 's this! — 
I do beseech your grace, — 

Lear. 0, cry you mercy, sir. — 

Noble philosopher, your company. *^^ 

Edgar. Tom 's a-cold. 

Gloster. In, fellow, there, into the hovel; keep thee 
warm. 

Lear. Come, let 's in all. 

Kent. This way, my lord. 

Lear. With him ; 

I will keep still with my philosopher. 

Kent. Good my lord, soothe him ; let him take the fellow. 

Gloster. Take him you on. 

Kent. Sirrah, come on ; go along with us. ^^^ 

Lear. Come, good Athenian. 

Gloster. No words, no words; hush! 



TRAGEDY OP KING LEAR 87 

Edgar. Child Rowland to the dark tower came; 

His word ivas still, — Fie, foh, and fum, 
I smell the blood of a British man. [Exeunt. 

Scene V. Glostefs Castle. 
Enter Cornwall and Edmund. 

Cornwall. I will have my revenge ere I depart this house. 

Edmund. How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature 
thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of. 

Cornwall. I now perceive, it was not altogether your 
brother's evil disposition made him seek his death, but a 
provoking merit, set a- work by a reprovable badness in 
himself. 

Edmund. How malicious is my fortune, that I must re- 
pent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which ap- 
proves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. 
heavens! that this treason were not, or not I the detector! 

Cornwall. Go with me to the duchess. ^^ 

Edmund. If the matter of this paper be certain, you have 
mighty business in hand. 

Cornwall. True or false, it hath made the earl of Gloster. 
Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our 
apprehension. 

Edmund. [Aside] If I find him comforting the king, it will 
stuff his suspicion more fully. — I will persever in my course 
of loyalty, though the conflict be sore between that and my 
blood. 21 

Cornwall. I will lay trust upon thee, and thou shalt find 
a dearer father in my love. [Exeunt. 



88 THE CRANE CLxVSSICS 

Scene VI. A Chamber in a Farmhouse adjoining the Castle. 
Enter Gloster, Lear, Kent, Fool, and Edgar. 

Gloster. Here is better than the open air ; take it thank- 
fully. I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can. 
I will not be long from you. 

Kent. All the power of his wits have given way to his im- 
patience. The gods reward your kindness! [Exit Gloster. 

Edgar. Frateretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an ang- 
ler in the lake of darkness. — Pray, innocent, and beware the 
foul fiend. 

Fool. Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a 
gentleman or a yeoman? ^^ 

Lear. A king, a king! 

Fool. No, he 's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son; 
for he 's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman be- 
fore him. 

Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spits 
Come hizzing in upon 'em, — 

Edgar. The foul fiend bites my back. 

Fool. He 's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a 
horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath. ^^ 

Lear. It shall be done ; I will arraign them straight. — 
[To Edgar] Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer. — 
[To the Fool] Thou, sapient sir, sit here. — Now, you she 
foxes ! 

Edgar. Look, where he stands and glares! Wantest thou 
eyes at trial, madam? 

Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me. 

Fool. Her boat hath a leak. 

And she must not speak 
Why she dares not come over to thee. ^^ 



TRAGEDY OF KII^G I.EAR 89 

Edgar. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a 
nightingale. Hoppeclance cries in Tom's belly for two 
white herring. Croak not, black angel ; I have no food for 
thee. 

Kent. How do you, sir? Stand you not so amaz'd. 
Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? 

Lear. I '11 see their trial first. — Bring in their evidence. — 
[To Edgar] Thou robed man of justice, take thy place, — 
[To the Fool] And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, 
Bench by his side. — [To Kent] You are o' the commission, 
Sit you too. '' 

Edgar. Let us deal justly. 

Steepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd f 

Thy sheep he in the corn; 
And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, 
Thy sheep shall take no harm. 
Pur! the cat is grey. 

Lear. Arraign her first; 't is Goneril. I here take my 
oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the poor 
king her father. 

Fool. Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril? 

Lear. She cannot deny it. ^^ 

Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint stool. 

Lear. And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim 
What store her heart is made on. — Stop her there! 
Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place! 
False justicer, w^hy has thou let her escape? 

Edgar. Bless thy five wits ! 

Kent. pity! — Sir, where is the patience now, 
That you so oft have boasted to retain ? 

Edgar. [Aside] My tears begin to take his part so much. 
They mar my counterfeiting. ^^ 



90 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

Lear. The little dogs and all, 
Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me. 

Edgar. Tom will throw his head at them. — Avaunt, you 
curs ! 

Be thy mouth or black or white. 
Tooth that poisons if it bite ; 
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim. 
Hound or spaniel, brach or lym. 
Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail, '" 

Tom will make him weep and wail; 
For, with throAving thus my head. 
Dogs leap'd the hatch, and all are fled. 
Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to w^akes and fairs 
and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. 

Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan ; see what breeds 
about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that makes 
these hard hearts? — {To Edgar) You, sir, I entertain for one 
of my hundred ; only I do not like the fashion of your gar- 
ments. You will say the}^ are Persian; but let them be 
changed. *^ 

Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile. 
Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains: 
so, so. We'll go to supper i' the morning. 
Fool. And I '11 go to bed at noon. 

Re-enter Gloster. 

Gloster. Come hither, friend ; Avhere is the king my mas- 
ter? 

Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone. 

Gloster. Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms ; 
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him. ^^ 

There is a litter ready; lay him *n 't, 



TRAGEDY OF KIKG LEAR 91 

And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet 

Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master. 

If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, 

With thine, and all that offer to defend him. 

Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up; 

And follow me, that will to some provision 

Give thee quick conduct. 

Kent. Oppress' d nature sleeps. 

This rest might yet have balni'cl thy broken sinews, ^"^ 
Which, if convenience will not allow. 
Stand in hard cure. — [To the Fool] Come, help to bear thy 

master ; 
Thou must not stay behind. 

Gloster. Come, come, away. 

[Exeunt all hut Edgar. 

Edgar. When we our betters see bearing our woes. 
We scarcely think our miseries our foes. 
^Tio alone suffers suffers most i' the mind. 
Leaving free things and happy shows behind ; 
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er skip, ^^^ 

AVhen grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. 
How light and portable my pain seems now. 
When that which makes me bend makes the king bow. 
He childed as I father'd! Tom, away! 
Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray, 
Wlien false opinion, whose wrong thoughts defile thee. 
In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee. 
What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king! 
Lurk, lurk. [Exit. 



92 THE CEAiq-E CLASSICS 

Scene VIL Gloster's Castle. 
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, and Servants. 

Cornwall. [To Goneril] Post speedily to my lord your hus- 
band : show him this letter : the army of France is landed. 
— Seek out the villain Gloster. [Exeunt some of the Servants. 

Regan. Hang him instantly. 

Goneril. Pluck out his eyes. 

Cornwall. Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, keep 
you our sister company. The revenges we are bound to 
take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your be- 
holding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to a most 
festinate preparation ; we are bound to the like. Our posts 
shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us. — Farewell, dear 
sister. — Farewell, my lord of Gloster.— ^^ 

Enter Oswald. 

How now! where 's the king? 

Oswald. My lord of Gloster hath convey'd him hence. 
Some five or six and thirty of his knights. 
Hot questrists after him, met him at gate ; 
Who, with some other of the lord's dependants. 
Are gone with him toward Dover, where they boast 
To have well-armed friends. 

Cornwall. Get horses for your mistress. 

Goneril. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. ^^ 

Cornwall. Edmund, farewell. — 

[Exeunt Goneril, Edmund, and Oswald. 
Go seek the traitor Gloster. 
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. — 

[Exeunt other Servants. 
Though well we may not pass upon his life 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 



93 



Without the form of justice, yet our power 

Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men 

May blame but not control. — Who's there? the traitor? 

Enter Gloster, brought in by two or three. 

Regan. Ingrateful fox! 't is he. 

Cornwall. Bind fast his corky arms. ^® 

Gloster. What means your graces? Good my friends, 
consider 
You are my guests ; do me no foul play, friends. 

Cornwall. Bind him, I say. 

Regan. Hard, hard. — filthy traitor ! 

Gloster. Unmerciful lady as you are, I 'm none. 

Cornwall. To this chair bind him. — Villain, thou shalt 
find — {Regan ^plucks his beard. 

Gloster. By the kind gods, 't is most ignobly done 
To pluck me by the beard. *° 

Regan. So white, and such a traitor! 

Gloster. Naughty lady, 

These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin 
Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your host; 
With robbers' hands my hospitable favours 
You should not ruffie thus. What will you do? 

Cornwall. Come, sir, what letters had you late from 
France? 

Regan. Be simple-answer' d, for we know the truth. 

Cornwall. And what confederacy have you with the trai- 
tors '' 
Late footed in the kingdom? 

Regan. To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? 
Speak. 

Gloster. I have a letter guessingly set down, 



94 THE CKANE CLASSICS 

Which came from one that 's of a neutral heart, 
And not from one oppos'd. 

CornivaU. Cunning. 

Regan. And false. 

Cornwall. Where hast thou sent the king? ^^ 

Gloster. To Dover. 

Regan. Wherefore to Dover. Wast thou not charg'd at 
peril — 

Cornicall. \%erefore to Dover? — Let him first answer 
that. 

Gloster. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the 
course. 

Regan. Wherefore to Dover? 

Gloster. Because I would not see th}^ cruel nails 
Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister ^° 

In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. 
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head 
In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up, 
And quench'd the stelled fires; 
Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. 
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time, 
Thou shouldst have said, ^Good porter, turn the key, 
All cruels else subscribe.' But I shall see 
The winged vengeance overtake such children. 

CornivaU. See 't shalt thou never. — Fellows, hold the 
chair.— 
Upon these eyes of thine I '11 set my foot. 

Gloster. He that will think to live till he be old, 
Give me some help! — cruel! you gods! 

Regan. One side will mock another; the other too. 

CornivaU. If you see vengeance — 

1 Servant. Hold your hand, my lord! 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 95 

I have serv'd you ever since I was a child ; 

But better service have I never done you 

Than now to bid you hold. ^^ 

Regan. How now, you dog! 

1 Servant. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, 
I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean? 

Cornivall. My villain! [They draw and fight. 

1 Servant. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of 
anger. 

Regan. Give me thy sword. — A peasant stands up thus! 
[Takes a sword, and runs at him behind. 

1 Servant. 0, 1 am slain! — My lord, you have one eye left 
To see some mischief on him. — ! [Dies. 

Cornwall. Lest it see more, prevent it. — Out, vile jelly! 
Where is thy lustre now? ^°^ 

Gloster. All dark and comfortless. — Where's my son Ed- 
mund? 
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature, 
To quit this horrid act. 

Regan. Out, treacherous villain! 

Thou call'st on him that hates thee; it was he 
That made the overture of thy treasons to us. 
Who is too good to pity thee. 

Gloster. my follies! then Edgar was abus'd. — "** 

Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! 

Regan. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell 
His way to Dover. — [Exit one with Gloster.] How is 't my 
lord? how look you? 

Cornwall. I have received a hurt; follow me, lady. — 
Turn out that eyeless villain ; throw this slave 
Upon the dunghill. — Regan, I bleed apace; 



96 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. 

[Exit Cornwall, led by Regan. 

2 Servant. I '11 never care what wickedness I do, 

If this man come to good. '^^^ 

3 Servant. If she live long, 
And in the end meet the old course of death. 
Women will all turn monsters. 

2 Servant. Let 's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam 
To lead him where he would ; his roguish madness 
Allows itself to anything. 

3 Servant. Go thou. I'll fetch some flax and whites of 

eggs 
To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him! 

[Exeunt severally. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. The Heath. 
Enter Edgar. 
Edgar. Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd, 
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worsts 
The lowest and most dejected thmg of fortune, 
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear. 
The lamentable change is from the best ; 
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then. 
Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace! 
The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst 
Owes nothing to thy blasts. — But w^ho comes here? 

Enter Gloster, led hy an old man. 

My father, poorly led? — World, world, w^orld! 
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 
Life would not yield to age. 

Old Man. my good lord, 

I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant. 
These fourscore years. 

Gloster. Away, get thee away ; good friend, be gone, 
Thy comforts can do me no good at all ; 
Thee they may hurt. 

Old Man. You cannot see your w^ay. 

Gloster. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes ; 
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 't is seen. 
Our means secure us, and our mere defects 
Prove our commodities. — dear son Edgar, 

-7 ( 97 ) 



98 THE CRAl^E CLASSICS 

The food of thy abused father's wrath ! 
Might I but hve to see thee in my touch, 
I'd say I had eyes again! 

Old Man. How now! Wlio's there? 

Edgar. [Aside] gods! Who is 't can say 'I am at the 
worst'? 
I am worse than e'er I was. ^ ^" 

Old Man. 'T is poor mad Tom. 

Edgar. \Adde\ And worse I may be yet; the worst is not 
So long as we can say 'This is the worst.' 

Old Man. Fellow, where goest? 

Gloster. Is it a beggar-man? 

Old Man. Madman and beggar too. 

Gloster. He has some reason, else he could not beg. 
I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw, 
Which made me think a man a worm. My son 
Came then into my mind, and yet my mind ^^ 

Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more 

since. 
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; 
They kill us for their sport. 

Edgar. [Aside] How should this be? 

Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, 
Angering itself and others. — Bless thee, master! 

Gloster. Is that the naked fellow? 

Old. Man. Ay, my lord. 

Gloster. Then, prithee, get thee gone. If for my sake 
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain ^^ 

I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love; 
And bring some covering for this naked soul. 
Which I '11 entreat to lead me. 
Old Man. Alack, sir, he is mad. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 99 

Gloster. 'T is the times' plague, when madmen lead the 
blind. 
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure ; 
Above the rest, be gone. 

Old Man. I '11 bring him the best 'parel that I have. 
Come on 't what will. -j [Exit. 

Gloster. Sirrah, naked fellow, — ^^ 

Edgar. Poor Tom 's a-cold. — [Aside] I cannot daub it 
further. 

Gloster. Come hither, fellow. 

Edgar. [Aside] And yet I must. — Bless thy sweet eyes, 
they bleed. 

Gloster. Know'st thou the way to Dover? 

Edgar. Both stile and gate, horse-way and footpath. 
Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits. Bless 
thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! Five fiends have 
been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbid- 
idence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, o 
murther; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing, who 
since possesses chambermaids and waiting-women. So, 
bless thee, master! ^^ 

Gloster. Here, take this purse, thou whom the heaven's 
plagues 
Have humbled to all strokes ; that I am wretched 
Makes thee the happier. — Heavens, deal so still! 
Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man. 
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see 
Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly ; 
So distribution should undo excess, 
And each man have enough. — Dost thou know Dover? 

Edgar. Ay, master. 

Gloster. There is a cliff whose high and bending head 



100 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

Looks fearfully in the confined deep : 

Bring me but to the very brim of it, 

And I '11 repair the misery thou dost bear ^^ 

With something rich about me; from that place 

I shall no leading need. 

Edgar. Give me thy arm; 

Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt. 

Scene II. Before the Duke of Albany^ s Palace. 
Enter Goneril and Edmund. 
Goneril. Welcome, my lord ; I marvel our mild husband 
Not met us on the way. — 

Enter Oswald. 

Now, where 's your master? 

Osivald. Madam, within; but never man so chang'd. 
I told him of the army that was landed ; 
He smil'd at it. I told him you were coming; 
His answer was, The worse.' Of Gloster's treachery, 
And of the loyal service of his son, 
When I inform 'd him, then he call'd me sot. 
And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out. ^" 

What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him ; 
"Wliat like, offensive. 

Goneril. [To Edmund] Then shall you go no further. 
It is the cowish terror of his spirit. 
That dares not undertake ; he '11 not feel wrongs 
"WHiich tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way 
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother; 
Hasten his musters and conduct his powers. 
I must change arms at home, and give the distaff 
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant ^^ 



TEAGEDY OF KING LEAR 



101 



Shall pass between us ; ere long you are like to hear, 

If you dare venture in your own behalf, 

A mistress's command. Wear this, spare speech. 

[Giving a favour. 
Decline your head ; this kiss, if it durst speak. 
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air. 
Conceive, and fare thee well. 

Edmund. Yours in the ranks of death. 

Goneril. My most dear Gloster! 

[Exit Edmund. 
0, the difference of man and man ! 

To thee a woman's services are due ; ^^ 

My fool usurps my body. 

Oswald. Madam, here comes my lord. 

[Exit. 

Enter Albany. 

Goneril. I have been worth the whistle. 

Albany. Goneril ! 

You are not worth the dust which the rude wind 
Blows in your face. I fear your disposition. 
That nature which contemns its origin 
Cannot be border' d certain in itself; 
She that herself will sliver and disbranch 
From her material sap, perforce nmst wither *" 

And come to deadly use. 

Goneril. No more; the text is foolish. 

Albany. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; 
Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? 
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd? 
A father, and a gracious aged man, 
Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick. 
Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded. 



102 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Could my good brother suffer you to do it? 

A man, a prince, by him so benefited! ^° 

If that the heavens do not their visible spirits 

Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, 

It will come, 

Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 

Like monsters of the deep. 

Goneril. Milk-liver'd man! 

That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs ; 
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning 
Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st 
Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd *^° 

Ere they have done their mischief, — where's thy drum? 
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land, 
With plumed helm thy state begins to threat, 
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still and criest 
'Alack, why does he so?' 

Albany. See thyself, devil! 

Proper deformity seems not in the fiend 
So horrid as in woman. 

Goneril. vain fool! 

Albany. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame, 
Be-monster not thy feature. Were 't my fitness ^^ 

To let these hands obey my blood. 
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear 
Thy flesh and bones. Howe'er thou art a fiend, 
A woman's shape doth shield thee. 

Goneril. Marry, your manhood now! — 

Enter a Messenger. 
Albany. What news? 

Messenger. 0, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall 's 
dead ; 



TRAGEDY OE* KING LEAR 103 

Slain by his servant, going to put out ^^ 

The other eye of Gloster. 

Albany. Gloster's eyes! 

Messenger. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse 
Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword 
To his great master; who thereat enrag'd 
Flew on him and amongst them fell'd him dead. 
But not without that harmful stroke which since 
Hath pluck' d him after. 

Albany. This shows you are above, 

You justicers, that these our nether crimes ^^ 

So speedily can venge! — But, poor Gloster! 
Lost he his other eye? 

Messenger. Both, both, my lord. — 

This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer ; 
'T is from your sister. 

Goneril. \^Aside'\ One way I like this well; 

But being widow, and my Gloster with her, 
May all the building in my fancy pluck 
Upon my hateful life : another way, ^^ 

The news is not so tart. — I '11 read, and answer. [Exit. 

Albany. Where was his son when they did take his eyes? 

Messenger. Come with my lady hither. 

Albany. He is not here. 

Messenger. No, my good lord ; I met him back again. 

Albany. Knows he the wickedness? 

Messenger. Ay, my good lord ; 't was he inform' d against 
him, 
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment 
Might have the freer course. 

Albany. Gloster, I live "" 

To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king. 



104 TPIE CEAJSTE CLASSICS 

And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither, friend; 

Tell me what more thou know'st. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. The French Camp near Dover. 
Enter Kent and a Gentleman. 

Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back, 
know you the reason? 

Gentleman. Something he left imperfect in the state which 
since his coming forth is thought of, which imports to the 
kingdom so much fear and danger that his personal return 
was most required and necessary. 

Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? 

Gentleman. The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. 

Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any demon- 
stration of grief? ^^ 

Gentleman. Ay, sir ; she took them, read them in my pres- 
ence. 
And now and then an ample tear trill' d down 
Her delicate cheek. It seem'd she was a queen 
Over her passion, who most rebel-like 
Sought to be king o'er her. 

Kent. 0, then it mov'd her. 

Gentleman. Not to a rage ; patience and sorrow strove 
Who should express' her goodliest. You have seen 
Sunshine and rain at once : her smiles and tears ^^ 

Were like a better way ; those happy smilets, 
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence 
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief. 
Sorrow would be a rarit}^ most belov'd. 
If all could so become it. 

Kent, Made she no verbal question? 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 105 

Gentleman. Faith, once or twice she heav'd the name of 
father 
Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart; ^"^ 

Cried ' Sisters ! sisters ! Shame of ladies ! sisters ! 
Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night? 
Let pity not be beUev'd!' There she shook 
Tlie ho]y water from her heavenly eyes. 
And, clamour-moisten' d, then away she started 
To deal with grief alone. 

Kent. It is the stars, 

The stars above us, govern our conditions; 
Else one self mate and mate could not beget 
Such different issues. — You spoke not with her since ? 

Gentleman. No. " 

Kent. Was this before the king returned? 

Gentleman. No, since. 

Kent. W^ell, sir, the poor distressed Lear 's i' the town; 
Who sometime in his better tune remembers 
Wliat we are come about, and by no means 
Will yield to see his daughter. 

Gentleman. Why, good sir? 

Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him; his own un- 
kindness, ^^ 

That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her 
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights 
To his dog-hearted daughters, — these things sting 
His mind so venomously that burning shame 
Detains him from Cordelia. 

Gentleman. Alack, poor gentleman! 

Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? 

Gentleman. 'T is so, they are afoot. 

Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear, 



106 



THE CEAN"E CLASSICS 



And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause *" 

Will in concealment wrap me up awhile ; 

AVhen I am known aright, you shall not grieve 

Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go 

Along with me. [Exeunt. 

Scene IV. The Same. A Tent. 

Enter, with drimi and colours, Cordelia, Doctor, and 
Soldiers. 

Cordelia. Alack, 't is he! AVhy, he was met even now 
As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; 
Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds. 
With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, 
Darnel, and all the idle w^eeds that grow 
In our sustaining corn. — A century send forth ; 
Search every acre in the high-grown field. 
And bring him to our eye. — [Exit an Officer.] Wiat can 

man's wisdom 
In the restoring his bereaved sense? *° 

He that helps him take all my outward worth. 

Doctor. There is means, madam. 
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, 
The w^hich he lacks ; that to provoke ip him, 
Are many simples operative, whose power 
Will close the eye of anguish. 

Cordelia. All blest secrets, ' 

All you unpublished virtues of the earth. 
Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate 
In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him, ^^ 

Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life 
That wants the means to lead it. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAE 107 

Enter a Messenger. 

Messenger. News, madam; 

The British powers are marching hitherward. 

Cordelia. 'T is known before; our preparation stands 
In expectation of them. — dear father, 
It is thy business that I go about ; 
Therefore great France 

My mourning and important tears hath pitied. 
No blown ambition doth our arms incite, ^^ 

But love, dear love, and our aged father's right ; 
Soon may I hear and see him! [Exeunt. 

Scene V. Gloster's Castle. 
Enter Regan and Oswald. 

Regan. But are my brother's powers set forth? 

Oswald. Ay, madam. 

Regan. Himself in person there? 

Oswald. Madam, with much ado ; 

Your sister is the better soldier. 

Regan. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? 

Oswald. No, madam. 

Regan. What might import my sister's letter to him? 

Oswald. I know not, lady. 

Regan. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. ^^ 
It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out. 
To let him live ; where he arrives he moves 
All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone, 
In pity of his misery, to dispatch 
His nighted life ; moreover, to descry 
The strength o' the enemy. 

Oswald. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. 



108 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Regan. Our troops set forth to-morrow; stay with us. 
The ways are dangerous. 

Oswald. I may not, madam; ^® 

My lady charg'd my duty in this business. 

Regan. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not 
you 
Transport her purposes by word? Belike, 
Some things — I know not what. I '11 love thee much, — 
Let me unseal the letter. 

Oswald. Madam, I had rather — 

Regan. I know your lady does not love her husband, 
I am sure of that ; and at her late being here 
She gave strange cvillades and most speaking looks ^^ 

To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. 

Oswald: I, madam? 

Regan. I speak in understanding; you are, I know 't. 
Therefore I do advise you, take this note : 
My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd, 
And more convenient is he for my hand 
Than for your lady's : you may gather more. 
If you do find him, pray you, give him this; 
And when your mistress hears thus much from you, 
I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. ^^ 

So, fare you well. 

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, 
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. 

Oswald. Would I could meet him, madam! I should 
show 
WTiat party I do follow. 
Regan. Fare thee well. [Exeunt. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 109 

Scene VI. Fields near Dover. 
Enter Gloster, and Edgar dressed like a peasant. 

Gloster. When shall I come to the top of that same hill ? 

Edgar. You do climb up it now ; look, how we labour. 

Gloster. Methinks the ground is even. 

Edgar. Horrible steep. 

Hark, do you hear the sea? 

Gloster. No, truly. 

Edgar. Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect 
By your eyes' anguish. 

Gloster. So may it be indeed; 

Methinks thy voice is alter' d, and thou speak'st ^° 

In better phrase and matter than thou didst. 

Edgar. You're much deceiv'd; in nothing am I chang'd 
But in my garments. 

Gloster. Methinks j^ou're better spoken. 

^'(ir/ar. Come on, sir; here's the place. Standstill. How 
fearful 
And dizzy 't is to cast one's eyes so low! 
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air 
Show scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down 
Hangs one that gathers sampire, dreadful trade! ^^ 

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. 
The fishermen that walk upon the beach 
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark 
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy 
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge. 
That on the unnumber'd idle pebble chafes. 
Cannot be heard so high. I '11 look no more. 
Lest my brain turn and the deficient sight 
Topple down headlong. 



110 THE CKANE CLASSICS 

Gloster. Set me where you stand. ^" 

Edgar. Give me yom- hand. You are now withm a foot 
Of the extreme verge. For all beneath the moon 
Would I not leap upright. 

Gloster. Let go my hand. 

Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel 
Well worth a poor man's taking : fairies and gods 
Prosper it with thee ! Go thou further off ; 
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. 

Edgar. Now fare ye well, good sir. 

Gloster. With all my heart. 

Edgar. [Aside] Why I do trifle thus with his despair ^^ 
Is done to cure it. 

Gloster. [Kneeling.] you mighty gods! 
This world I do renounce, and in your sights 
Shake patiently my great affliction off. 
If I could bear it longer, and not fall 
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills. 
My snuff and loathed part of nature should 
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, bless him! 
Now, fellow,' fare thee well. ^^ 

Edgar. Gone, sir; farewell. 

[He falls forward. 
[Aside] And yet I know not how conceit may rob 
The treasury of life, when life itself 
Yields to the theft. Had he been Avhere he thought. 
By this had thought been past. Alive or dead? — 
Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak! — 
[Aside] Thus might he pass indeed ; yet he revives. — 
What are you, sir? 

Gloster. Away, and let me die. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAK 111 

Edgar. Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, 
air, 
So many fathom down precipitating. 
Thou 'dst shiver'd hke an egg; but thou dost breathe, 
Plast heavy substance, bleed'st not, speak'st, art sound. 
Ten masts at each make not the altitude 
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell : 
Thy life 's a mirac'e. Speak yet again. 

Gloster. But have I fallen, or no? 

Edgar. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. 
Look up a-height; the shrill-gorg'd lark so far 
Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up. ^^ 

Gloster. Alack, I have no eyes. 
Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit, 
To end itself by death? 'T was yet some comfort, 
Wlien misery could beguile the tyrant's rage. 
And frustrate his proud will. 

Edgar. Give me your arm. 

Up; so. How is 't? Feel your legs? You stand. 

Gloster. Too well, too well. 

Edgar. This is above all strangeness. 

Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that ^^ 

Which parted from you? 

Gloster. A poor unfortunate beggar. 

Edgar. As I stood here below, methought his eyes 
Were two full moons ; he had a thousand noses, 
Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enriclged sea. 
It was some fiend ; therefore, thou happy father, 
Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours 
Of men's ?mpossibilities, have preserv'd thee. 

Gloster. I do remember now. Henceforth I'll bear 
Affliction till it do cry out itself ^^ 



112 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

^Enough, enough/ and die. That thing you speak of, 
I took it for a man; often 't would say 
^The fiend, the fiend :' he led me to that place. 
Edgar. Bear free and patient thoughts. — But who comes 
here? 

Enter Lear, fantastically dressed voith loild flowers. 

The safer sense will ne'er accommodate 
His master thus. 

Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the 
king himself. 

Edgar. thou side-piercing sight! ^"^ 

Lear. Nature 's above art in that respect. — Tliere 's your 
press-money. — That fellow handles his bow like a crow- 
keeper. — Draw me a clothier's yard. — Look, look, a mouse! 
Peace, peace ; this piece of toasted cheese will do 't. — There 
's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a giant. — Bring up the 
brown bills. — 0, well flown, bird! i' the clout, i' the clout! 
hewgh! — Give the word. 

Edgar. Sweet marjoram. 

Lear. Pass. 

Gloster. I know that voice. "^ 

Lear. Ha! Goneril, — with a white beard! — They flat- 
tered me like a dog; and told me I had white hairs in my 
beard ere the black ones were there. To say ay and no to 
every thing that I said! Ay and no too was no good di- 
vinity. When the rain came to wet me once and the wind 
to make me chatter, when the thunder would not peace at 
my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go 
to, they are not men o' their words : they told me I was 
every thing; 't is a lie, I am not ague-proof. "^ 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAE 113 

Gloster. The trick of that voice I do well remember. 
Is 't not the king? 

Lear. Ay, every inch a king. 

When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. — 
I pardon that man's life. — What was thy cause? 
Adultery? 

Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery? No; 
For Gloster' s bastard son 

Was kinder to his father than my daughters. — 
Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my 
imagination; there's money for thee. ^^^ 

Gloster. 0, let me kiss that hand! 

Lear. Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality. 

Gloster. ruin'd piece of nature! This great world 
Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me? 

Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou 
squiny at me ? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid ; I '11 not 
love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the penning 
of it. 

Gloster. Were all thy letters suns, I could not see. 

Edgar. [Aside] I would not take this from report; it is. 
And my heart breaks at it. ^^^ 

Lear. Read. 

Gloster. What, v/ith the case of eyes? 

Lear. 0, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your 
head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a 
heavy case, your purse in a light; yet you see how this 
world goes. 

Gloster. I see it feelingly. ^^® 

Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how this world 
goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears; see how yond 
justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in thine ear; 

—8 



114 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

change places, and handy-dandy, which is the justice, which 
is the thief? Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a 
beggar? 

Gloster. Ay, sir. 

Lear. And the creature run from the cur? There thou 
mightst behold the great image of authority; a dog's 
obeyed in office. — 
The usurer hangs the cozener. 

Through tatter'd clothes great voices do appear; ^^® 

Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks; 
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it. 
None does offend, none, I say, none ; I '11 able 'em : 
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes ; 
And, like a scurvy politician, seem 
To see the things thou dost not. — 

Now, now, now, now; pull off my boots. Harder, harder: 
so. ''' 

Edgar. [Aside] 0, matter and impertinency mix'd! 
Reason in madness! 

Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. 
I know thee well enough ; thy name is Gloster. 
Thou must be patient ; we came crying hither. 
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air. 
We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee; mark. 

Gloster. Alack, alack the day! 

Lear. When we are born, we cry that w^e are come 
To this great stage of fools. This' a good block ; ^^ 

It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 
A troop of horse with felt. I '11 put 't in proof ; 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 115 

And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law, 
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! 

Enter a Gentleman, vrith Attendants. 

Gentleman. 0, here he is; lay hand upon him. — Sir, 
Your most dear daughter — 

Lear. No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even 
The natural fool of fortune. Use me well ; 
You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons; 
I am cut to the brains. ^®® 

Gentleman. You shall have anything. 

Lear. No seconds? all myself? 
Why, this would make a man a man of salt. 
To use his eyes for garden water-pots, 
Ay, and laying autumn's dust. 

Gentleman. Good sir, — 

Lear. I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What! 
I will be jovial. Come, come; I am a king, 
My masters, know you that? 

Gentleman. You are a royal one, and we obey you. ^°^ 

Lear. Then there's life in 't. Come, an you get it, you 
shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. 

[Exit running; Attendants folloio. 

Gentleman. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, 
Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter. 
Who redeems nature from the general curse 
Which twain have brought her to. 

Edgar. Hail, gentle sir. 

Gentleman. Sir, speed you ; what 's your will ? 

Edgar. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? 

Gentleman. Most sure and vulgar ; every one hears that, 
Which can distinguish sound. ^^^ 



116 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Edgar. But, by your favour, 

How near 's the other army? 

Gentleman. Near and on speedy foot; the main descry 
Stands on the hourly thought. 

Edgar. I thank you, sir; that's all. 

Gentleman. Though that the queen on special cause is 
here. 
Her army is mov'd on. 

Edgar. I thank you, sir. [Exit Gentleman. 

Gloster. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me; 
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again ^^^ 

To die before you please! 

Edgar. Well pray you, father, 

f" Gloster. Now, good sir, what are you? 

Edgar. A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows. 
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, 
I'll lead you to some biding. 

Gloster. Hearty thanks; ^^^ 

The bounty and the benison of heaven 
To boot, and boot! 

Enter Oswald. 

Oswald. A proclaim'd prize! Most happy! 

That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh 
To raise my fortunes. — Thou old unhappy traitor. 
Briefly thyself remember ; the sword is out 
That must destroy thee. 

Gloster. Now let thy friendly hand 

Put strength enough to 't. [Edgar interposes. 

Oswald. Wherefore, bold peasant. 

Barest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence! ^" 



TRAGEDY OF KIITG ILEAR 



117 



Lest that the infection of his fortune take 
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. 

Edgar. Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. 

Oswald. Let go, slave, or thou diest! 

Edgar. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk 
pass. An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life, 't would 
not ha' bin zo long as 't is by a vortnight. Nay, come not 
near th' old man ; keep out, che vor ye, or ise try whether 
your costard or my ballow be the harder ; chill be plain 
Avith you. 

Oswald. Out, dunghill! [They fight. 

Edgar. Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come ; no matter vor 
your foins. [Oswald falls. 

Owald. Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my 
purse : 
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body, 
And give the letters which thou find'st about me 
To Edmund earl of Gloster ; seek him out 
Upon the English party. 0, untimely death! ^^^ 

Death! [Dies. 

Edgar. I know thee well; a serviceable villain. 
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress 
As badness would desire. 

Gloster. What, is he dead? 

Edgar. Sit you down, father; rest you. — 
Let's see these pockets; the letters that he speaks of 
May be my friends. He 's dead ; I am only sorry 
He had no other deathsman. Let us see : 
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not. ^^^^ 

To know our enemies' minds, we 'd rip their hearts ; 
Their papers, is more lawful. 

[Reads] 'Let our reciprocal vows he remembered. You 



118 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

have many opportunities to cut him off; if your will want not, 
%me and place will he fruitfully offered. There is nothing 
done, if he return the conqueror: then am I the prisoner, and 
his bed my goal; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, 
and supply the place for your labour. 

^Your — wife, so I would say — affectionate servant, 

'GONERIL.' 

indistinguish'd space of woman's will! ^^^ 

A plot upon her virtuous husband's life! 

And the exchange my brother! — Here, in the sands, 

Thee I '11 rake up, the post unsanctified 

Of murtherous lechers ; and in the mature time 

With this ungracious paper strike the sight 

Of the death-practis'd duke. For him 't is well 

That of thy death and business I can tell. 

Gloster. The king is mad. How stiff is my vile sense, 
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling ^^^ 

Of my huge sorrows ! Better I were distract ; 
So should my thoughts be sever'cl from my griefs, 
And woes by wrong imaginations lose 
The knowledge of themselves. [Drum afar off. 

Edgar. Give me your hand; 

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. 
Come, father, I '11 bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt. 

Scene VH. A Tent in the French Camp. Lear on a bed 

asleep, soft music playing; Gentleman and others attending. 

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Doctor. 

Cordelia. thou good Kent, how shall I live and work. 
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short. 
And every measure fail me. 

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'er-paid. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 119 

All my reports go with the modest truth, 
Nor more nor clipp'd, but so. 

Cordelia. Be better suited; 

These weeds are memories of those worser hours. 
I prithee, put them off. 

Kent. Pardon, dear madam; ^^ 

Yet to be known shortens my made intent. 
My boon I make it, that you know me not 
Till time and I think meet. 

Cordelia. Then be 't so, my good lord. — How does the 
king? 

Doctor. Madam, sleeps still. 

Cordelia. you kind gods. 
Cure this great breach in his abusM nature! 
The untun'd and jarring senses, 0, wind up 
Of this child-changed father! ^^ 

Doctor. So please your majesty 

That we may wake the king? he hath slept long. 

Cordelia. Be govern 'd by your knowledge, and proceed 
r the sway of your own will. — Is he array 'd? 

Gentleman. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of sleep 
We put fresh garments on him. 

Doctor. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him ; 
I doubt not of his temperance. 

Cordelia. Very well. 

Doctor. Please you, draw near. — Louder the music there! 

Cordelia. my dear father! Restoration hang ^^ 

Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss 
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters 
Have in thy reverence made! 

Kent. Kind and dear princess! 

Cordelia. Had you not been their father, these white 
flakes 



120 THE CEAN^E CLASSICS 

Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face 

To be oppos'd against the warring winds? 

To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? ^^ 

In the most terrible and nimble stroke 

Of quick, cross lightning? to watch — poor perdu! — 

With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog, 

Though he had bit me, should have stood that night 

Against my fire ; and wast thou fain, poor father. 

To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn. 

In short and musty straw? Alack, alack! 

'T is wonder that thy life and wits at once 

Had not concluded all. — He wakes; speak to him. 

Doctor. Madam, do you; 't is fittest. ^^ 

Cordelia. How does my royal lord? How fares your 
majesty? 

Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave. 
Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound 
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears 
Do scald like molten lead. 

Cordelia. Sir, do you know me? 

Lear. You are a spirit, I know; when did you die? 

Cordelia. Still, still, far wide! 

Doctor. He 's scarce awake ; let him alone awhile. ^" 

Lear. AVhere have I been? Where am I? Fair day- 
light? 
I am mightily abus'd. I should e'en die with pity. 
To see another thus. I know not what to say. 
I will not swear these are my hands. Let 's see ; 
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur'd 
Of my condition! 

Cordelia. 0, look upon me, sir, 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 121 

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me. 

No, sir, you must not kneel. ^" 

Lear. Pray, do not mock me. 

I am a very foohsh fond old man. 
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less ; 
And, to deal plainly, 
I fear I am not in my perfect mind. 
Methinks I should know you and know this man ; 
Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant 
What place this is, and all the skill I have 
Remembers not these garments, nor I know not 
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; ^^ 

For, as I am a man, I think this lady 
To be my child Cordelia. 

Cordelia. And so I am, I am. 

Lear. Be your tears wet? yes, faith. I pray, weep not. 
If you have poison for me, I will drink it. 
I know you do not love me, for your sisters 
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong ; 
You have some cause, they have not. 

Cordelia. No cause, no cause. 

Lear. Am I in France? ^^ 

Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. 

Lear. Do not abuse me. 

Doctor. Be comforted, good madam: the great rage. 
You see, is kill'd in him; and yet 't is danger 
To make him even o'er the time he has lost. 
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more 
Till further settling. 

Cordelia. Will 't please your highness walk? 

Lear. You must bear with me. Pray you now, forget 

and forgive; I am old and foolish. ^^" 

[Exeunt all hut Kent and Gentleman. 



122 THE CRAN"E CLASSICS 

Gentleman. Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall 
was so slain? 

Kent. Most certain, sir. 

Gentleman. Who is the conductor of his people? 

Kent. As 't is said, the bastard son of Gloster. 

Gentleman. They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the 
Earl of Kent in Germany. 

Kent. Report is changeable. 'T is time to look about; 
the powers of the kingdom approach apace. ^^^ 

Gentleman. The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare 
you w^ell, sir. [Exit. 

Kent. My point and period will be thoroughly wrought. 
Or well or ill, as this day's battle 's fought. [Exit. 



ACT V. 

Scene I. The British Camp, near Dover. 

Enter, with drum and colours, Edmund, Regan, Gentlemen, 
and Soldiers. 

Edmund. Know of the duke if his last purpose hold, 
Or whether since he is advis'd by aught 
To change the course. He 's full of alteration 
And self-reproving. Bring his constant pleasure. 

[To a Gentleman, ivho goes out. 

Regan. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. 

Edmund. 'T is to be doubted, madam. 

Regan. Now, sweet lord. 

You know the goodness I intend upon you ; 
Tell me — but truly — but then speak the truth. 
Do you not love my sister? ^^ 

Edmund. In honour'd love. 

Regan. But have you never found my brother's way 
To the forf ended place? 

Edmund. That thought abuses you. 

Regan. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct 
And bosom' d with her, as far as we call hers. 

Edmund. No, by mine honour, madam. 

Regan. I never shall endure her. Dear my lord. 
Be not familiar with her. 

Edmund. Fear me not. — ^^ 

She and the duke her husband! 

(123) 



124 THE CRATTE CLASSICS 

Enter with drum, and colours, Albany, Goneril, and 
Soldiers. 

Goneril. [Aside] I had rather lose the battle than that 
sister 
Should loosen him and me. 

Albany. Our very loving sister, well be-met. — 
Sir, this I hear : the king is come to his daughter, 
With others whom the rigour of our state 
Forc'd to cry out. A\niere I could not be honest, 
I never yet was valiant ; for this business, 
It toucheth us, as France invades our land, ^° 

Not holds the king, with others, whom, I fear, 
Most just and heavy causes make oppose. 

Edmund. Sir, you speak nobly. 

Regan. Why is this reason'd? 

Goneril. Combine together 'gainst the enemy; 
For these domestic and particular broils 
Are not the question here. 

Albany. Let 's then determine 

With the ancient of war on our proceeding. 

Edmund. I shall attend you presently at your tent. ^^ 

Regan. Sister, you '11 go with us? 

Goneril. No. 

Regan. 'T is most convenient; pray you, go w^ith us. 

Goneril. [Aside] 0, ho, I know the riddle! — I will go. 

As they are going out, enter Edgar disguised. 

Edgar. If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor, 
Hear me one word. 
Albany. I'll overtake you. — Speak. 

[Exeunt all but Albany and Edgar. 
Edgar. Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 125 

If you have victory, let the trumpet sound 

For him that brought it ; wretched though I seem, ^^ 

I can produce a champion that will prove 

What is avouched there. If you miscarry, 

Your business of the world hath so an end, 

And machination ceases. Fortune love you! 

Albany. Stay till I have read the letter. 

Edgar. I was forbid it. 

When time shall serve, let but the herald cry, 
And I '11 appear again. 

Albany. Why, fare thee well ; I will o'erlook thy paper. 

[Exit Edgar. 
Re-enter Edmund. 

Edmund. The enemy 's in view ; draw up your powers. 
Here is the guess of their true strength and forces ^^ 

By diligent discovery ; but your haste 
Is now urg'd on you. 

Albany. We will greet the time. [Exit. 

Edmund. To both these sister have I sworn my love; 
Each jealous of the other, as the stung 
Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take? 
Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy 'd. 
If both remain alive. To take the widow 
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril; ^^ 

And hardly shall I carry out my side, 
Her husband being alive. Now then we'll use 
His countenance for the battle; which being done. 
Let her who would be rid of him devise 
His speedy taking-off. As for the mercy 
Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, — 
The battle done, and they within our power. 



126 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Shall never see his pardon ; for my state 

Stands on me to defend, not to debate. [Exit. 

Scene II. A field between the two Camps. 

Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours, Lear, Cor- 
delia, and Soldiers, over the stage; and exeunt. 

Enter Edgar and Gloster. 

Edgar. Here, father, take the shadow of this tree 
For your good host; pray that the right may thrive. 
If ever I return to you again, 
I'll bring you comfort. 

Gloster. Grace go with you, sir! 

[Exit Edgar. 

Alarum and retreat ivithin. Re-enter Edgar. 

Edgar. Away, old man; give me thy hand; away! 
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en. 
Give me thy hand ; come on. 

Gloster. No further, sir; a man may rot even here. 

Edgar. What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure 
Their going hence, even as their coming hither : ^^ 

Ripeness is all. Come on. 

Gloster. And that 's true too. [Exeimt. 

Scene III. The British Camp near Dover. 

Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, Edmund; Lear 
and Cordelia, prisoners; Captain, Soldiers, etc. 

Edmund. Some officers take them away; good guard, 
Until their greater pleasures first be known 
That are to censure them. 

Cordelia. We are not the first 



TEAGEDY OF KING LEAR 127 

WTio, with best meaning, have incurr'cl the worst. 
For thee, oppressed king, I am cast down; 
Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown. 
Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? 

Lear. No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison; 
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage. ^^ 

When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, 
And ask of thee forgiveness. So we '11 live. 
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 
Talk of court news ; and we '11 talk with them too, 
Who loses and who wins, who's in, who's out; 
And take upon 's the mystery of things. 
As if we were God's spies : and we '11 wear out. 
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones 
That ebb and flow by the moon. ^^ 

Edmund. Take them away. 

Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 
The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? 
He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven, 
And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes ; 
The good-years shall devour them, flesh and fell. 
Ere they shall make us weep : we'll see 'em starv'd first. 
Come. [Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded. 

Edmund. Come hither, captain; hark. 
Take thou this note [giving a paper]; go follow them to 
prison. ^^ 

One step I have advanc'd thee ; if thou dost 
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way 
To noble fortunes. Know thou this, that men 
Are as the time is; to be tender-minded 
Does not become a sword : thy great employment 



128 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Will not bear question ; either say thou 'It do 't, 
Or thrive by other means. 

Captain. I'll do 't, my lord. 

Edmund. About it; and write happy when thou hast 
done. ^^ 

Mark, — I sa}^, instantly, and carry it so 
As I have set it down. 

Captain. I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats; 
If 't be man's work, I '11 do 't. [Exit. 

Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, another Cap- 
tain, and Soldiers. 

Albany. Sir, you have show'd to-day your valiant strain. 
And fortune led you well ; you have the captives 
That were the opposites of this day's strife. 
I do require them of you, so to use them 
As we shall find their merits and our safety ^® 

May equally determine. 

Edmund. Sir, I thought it fit 

To send the old and miserable king 
To some retention and appointed guard; 
Whose age had charms in it, whose title more. 
To pluck the common bosom on his side. 
And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes 
Which do command them. With him I sent the queen ; 
My reason all the same : and they are ready 
To-morrow, or at further space, to appear ^^ 

Where you shall hold your session. At this time 
We sweat and bleed : the friend hath lost his friend ; 
And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd 
By those that feel their sharpness. 



I 



i 



TRAGEDY OF KII^G LEAR 129 

The question of Cordelia and her father 
Requires a fitter place. 

Albany. Sir, by your patience, 

I hold you but a subject of this war, 
Not as a brother. 

Regan. That 's as we list to grace him. '^^ 

Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded, 
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers. 
Bore the commission of my place and person ; 
The which immediacy may well stand up. 
And call itself your brother. 

Goneril. Not so hot; 

In his own grace he doth exalt himself 
More than in your addition. 

Regan. In my rights. 

By me invested, he compeers the best. . ^^ 

Albany. That were the most, if he should husband you. 

Regan. Jesters do oft prove prophets. 

Goneril. Holla, holla! 

That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint. 

Regan. Lady, I am not well ; else I should answer 
From a full-flowing stomach. — General, 
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony : 
Dispose of them, of me ; the walls are thine. 
Witness the world, that I create thee here ^^ 

My lord and master. 

Goneril. Mean you to enjoy him? 

Albany. The let-alone lies not in your good-will. 

Edmund. Nor in thine, lord. 

Albany. Half-blooded fellow, yes. 

Regan. [TolEdmund.] Let the drum strike, and prove 
my title thine. 

—9~ 



130 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

Albany. Stay yet; hear reason. — Edmund, I arrest thee 
On capital treason; and, in thy arrest, 
This gilded serpent [pointing to Goneril]. — For your claim, 
fair sister, ^^^ 

I bar it in the interest of my wife ; 
'T is she is sub-contracted to this lord, 
And I, her husband, contradict your bans. 
If you will marry, make your loves to me ; 
My lady is bespoke. 

Goneril. An interlude! 

Albany. Thou art arm' d, Gloster; let the trumpet sound. 
If none appear to prove upon thy person 
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, "^^ 

There is my pledge [throwing dovm a glove]. I '11 prove it 

on thy heart. 
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less 
Than I have here proclaim' d thee. 

Regan. Sick, 0, sick! 

Goneril. [Aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine. 

Edmund. [Throwing down a glove. ] There 's my exchange. 
What in the world he is 
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. 
Call by thy trumpet; he that dares approach, ^^"^ 

On him, on you, — ^who not? — I will maintain 
My truth and honour firmly. 

Albany. A herald, ho! 

Edmund, A herald, ho, a herald! 

Albany. Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, 
All levied in thy name, have in my name 
Took their discharge. 

Regan. My sickness grows upon me. 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 131 

Albany. She is not well. — Convey her to my tent. — 

[Exit Regan, led. 

Enter a Herald. 

Come hither, herald, — Let the trumpet sound, — ^^ 

And read out this. 

Captain. Sound, trumpet! [A trumpet sounds. 

Herald. [Reads] 'If any man of quality or degree within 
the lists of the army ivill maintain upon Edmund, supposed 
Earl of Gloster, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear 
hy the third sound of the trumpet; he is hold in his defence.^ 

Edmund. Sound! [First trumpet. 

Herald. Again! [Second trumpet. 

Herald. Again! [Third trumpet. 

[Trumpet answers within. 

Enter Edgar, at the third sound, armed, with a trumpet 
before him. 

Albany. Ask him his purposes, why he appears ^^^ 

Upon this call o' the trumpet. 

Herald. What are you? 

Your name, your quality ? and why you answer 
This present summons? 

Edgar. Know, my name is lost, 

By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit; 
Yet am I noble as the adversary 
I come to cope. 

Albany. Wliich is that adversary? 

Edgar. What 's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Glos- 
ter? 1^^ 

Edmund. Himself; what say'st thou to him? 

Edgar. Draw thy sword. 



132 THE CEANE CLASSICS 

That, if my speech offend a noble heart, 

Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine. 

Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, 

My oath and my profession. I protest, — 

Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence, 

Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune. 

Thy valour and thy heart, — thou art a traitor, ^^^ 

False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father, 

Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince, 

And, from the extremest upward of thy head 

To the descent and dust below thy foot, 

A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou ^No,' 

This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent 

To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak. 

Thou liest. 

Edmund. In wisdom I should ask thy name: 
But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, ^^" 

And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes. 
What safe and nicely I might well delay 
By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn. 
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head, 
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; 
Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise. 
This sword of mine shall give them instant way, 
^^Tiere they shall rest for ever. — Trumpets, speak! 

[Alarums. They fight. Edmund falls. 

Albany. Save him, save him! 

Goneril. This is practice, Gloster; 

By the law of arms thou wast not bomid to answer ^^^ 

An unknown opposite : thou art not vanquish'd, 
But cozen'd and beguil'd. 

Albany. Shut your mouth, dame, 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 



133 



Or with this paper shall I stop it. — Hold, sir ; 
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil. — 
No tearing, lady ; I perceive you know^ it. 

[Gives the letter to Edmund. 

Goneril. Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not thine. 
Who can arraign me for 't? [Exit. 

Albany. Most monstrous! oh! — ^^" 

Know'st thou this paper? 

Edmund. Ask me not what I know. 

Albany. Go after her: she's desperate; govern her. 

Edmund. What you have charg'd me with, that have I 
done; 
And more, much more : the time will bring it out. 
'T is past, and so am I. — But what art thou 
That hast this fortune on me? If thou 'rt noble, 
I do forgive thee. 

Edgar. Let's exchange charity. ^^^ 

I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; 
If more, the more thou hast wrong' d me. 
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. 
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to plague us. 
The dark and vicious place where thee he got 
Cost him his eyes. 

Edmund. Thou hast spoken right, 't is true : 

The wheel is come full circle ; I am here. 

Albany. Methought thy very gait did prophesy ^^^ 

A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee; 
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I 
Did hate thee or thy father! 

Edgar. Worthy prince, I know 't. 



134 



THE CRANE CLASSICS 



Albany. Where have you hid yourself? 
How have you known the miseries of your father? 

Edgar. By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale 
And when 't is told, that my heart would burst! 
The bloody proclamation to escape, 
That followed me so near, — 0, our lives' sweetness! 
That we the pain of death would hourly die 
Rather than die at once! — taught me to shift 
Into a madman's rags, to assume a semblance 
That very dogs disdain'd; and in this habit 
Met I my father with his bleeding rings, 
Their precious stones new lost, became his guide. 
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair; 
Never, — fault! — reveal'd myself unto him. 
Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd. 
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last 
Told him my pilgrimage ; but his flaw'd heart, — 
Alack, too weak the conflict to support! — 
Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief. 
Burst smilingly. 

Edmund. This speech of yours hath mov'd me. 

And shall perchance do good : but speak you on ; 
You look as you had something more to say. 

Albany. If there be more, more woful, hold it in; 
For I am almost ready to dissolve. 
Hearing of this. 

Edgar. This would have seem'd a period 

To such as love not sorrow ; but another. 
To amplify too much, would make much more. 
And top extremity. 
Whilst I was big in clamour came there in a man, 



TRAGEDY OF KIISTG LEAR 135 

Who, having seen me in my worst estate, 

Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding 

Wlio 't was that so endur'd, with his strong arms 

He fastened on my neck, and bellow'd out ^^^ 

As he 'd burst heaven; threw him on my father; 

Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him 

That ever ear received; which in recounting 

His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 

Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded. 

And there I left him tranc'd. 

Albany. But who was this? 

Edgar. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise 
Follow' d his enemy king, and did him service 
Improper for a slave. ^^^ 

Enter a Gentleman mth a bloody knife. 

Gentleman. Help, help, 0, help! 

Edgar. Wliat kind of help? 

Albany. Speak, man. 

Edgar. What means that bloody knife? 

Gentleman. 'T is hot, it smokes ! 

It came even from the heart of — 0, she 's dead! 

Albany. Who dead? speak, man. 

Gentleman. Your lady, sir, your lady! and her sister 
By her is poison'd; she confesses it. 

Edmund. I was contracted to them both; all three 
Now marry in an instant. ^^^ 

Edgar. Here comes Kent. 

Albany. Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead. 
This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble. 
Touches us not with pity. — [Exit Gentleman. 



136 THE CEAlvrE CLASSICS 



Enter Kent. 



0, is this he? 
The time will not allow the compliment 
Which very manners urges. 

Kent. I am come 

To bid my king and master aye good night. ^^^ 

Is he not here? 

Albany. Great thing of us forgot! 

Speak, Edmund, where 's the king? and where 's Corde- 
lia?— 
See'st thou this object, Kent? 

[The bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought in. 

Kent. Alack, why thus? 

Edmund. Yet Edmund was belov'd. 

The one the other poison' d for my sake. 
And after slew herself. 

Albany. Even so. — Cover their faces. ^^^ 

Edmund. I pant for life ; some good I mean to do, 
Despite of mine own nature. — Quickly send. 
Be brief in it, to the castle ! for my writ 
Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia. 
Nay, send in time! 

Albany. Run, run, 0, run! 

Edgar. To who, my lord? — Wlio has the office? send 
Thy token of reprieve. 

Edmund. Well thought on; take my sword. 
Give it the captain. ^^^ 

Albany. Haste thee, for thy life! 

[Exit Edgar. 

Edmund. He hath commission from thy wife and me 
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and 



TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR 137 

To lay the blame upon her own despair, 
That she fordid herself. 

Albany. The gods defend her! — Bear him hence awhile. 

[Edmund is home off. 

Re-enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his arms; Edgar, 
Captain, and others following. 

Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl! 0, you are men of 
stones! 
Had I your tongues and eyes, I 'd use them so 
That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever! 
I know when one is dead, and when one lives. ^^^ 

She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass; 
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone. 
Why, then she lives. 

Kent. Is this the promis'd end? 

Edgar. Or image of that horror? 

Albany. Fall and cease! 

Lear. This feather stirs! she lives! if it be so. 
It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have felt. ^'' 

Kent. my good master! 

Lear. Prithee, away! 

Edgar. 'T is noble Kent, your friend. 

Lear. A plague upon you, murtherers, traitors all ! 
I might have sav'd her! now she 's gone for ever! — 
Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! . 
What is 't thou say'st? — Her voice was ever soft, 
Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman. — 
I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee. 

Captain. 'T is true, my lords, he did. ^^^ 

Lear. Did I not, fellow? 



138 THE CEAIN^E CLASSICS 

I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion 
I would have made them skip. I am old now, 
And these same crosses spoil me. — Who are you? 
Mine eyes are not o' the best ; I '11 tell you straight. 

Kent. If fortime brag of two she lov'd and hated, 
One of them ye behold. 

Lear. This is a dull sight. — Are you not Kent? 

Kent. The same. 

Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius? ^^" 

Lear. He 's a good fellow, I can tell you that ; 
He'll strike, and quickly too. He 's dead and rotten. 

Kent. No, my good lord ; I am the very man — 

Lear. I'll see that straight. 

Kent. That from your first of difference and decay 
Have follow'd your sad steps — 

Lear. You are welcome hither- 

Kent. Nor no man else; all 's cheerless, dark, and deadly. 
Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves. 
And desperately are dead. ^^® 

Lear. Ay, so I think. 

Albany. He knows not what he says, and vain it is 
That we present us to him. 

Edgar. Very bootless. 

Enter a Captain. 

Captain. Edmmid is dead, my lord. 

Albany. That's but a trifle here. — 

You lords and noble friends, know our intent. 
"What comfort to this great decay may come 
Shall be applied : for us, we will resign. 
During the life of this old majesty, ^®° 



TEAGEDY OF KlING LEAR 



139 



To him our absolute power; — [To Edgar and Kent] you, to 

your rights, 
With boot, and such addition as your honours 
Have more than merited. All friends shall taste 
The wages of their virtue, and all foes 
The cup of their deservings. — 0, see, see! 

Lear. And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life! 
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, 
And thou no breath at all ? Thou 'It come no more, 
Never, never, never, never, never! — ^^^ 

Pray you, undo this button; thank you, sir. — 
Do you see this? Look on her, — look, — her lips, — 
Look there, look there! [Dies- 

Edgar. He faints! — My lord, my lord! 

Kent. Break, heart; I prithee, break! 

Edgar. Look up, my lord. 

Kent. Vex not his ghost. 0, let him pass! he hates him 
That would upon the rack of this tough world 
Stretch him out longer. 

Edgar. He is gone, indeed. ^^" 

Kent. The wonder is he hath endur'd so long; 
He but usurp 'd his life. 

Albany. Bear them from hence. — Our present business 
Is general woe. — [To Kent and Edgar] Friends of my soul, 

you twain 
Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain. 

Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; 
My master calls me, I must not say no. 

Albany. The weight of this sad time we must obey. 
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. ^^^ 

The oldest hath borne most ; we that are young 
Shall never see so much, nor live so long. 

[Exeunt, with a dead march. 



ISrOTES 
TO TEAGEDT OF KING LEAE. 



ITOTES. 

Act I. 

' Scene I. 
Enter . . . Gloster. The first editions read "Gloucester," but 
tlie first quarto and the most of the modern editions have "Gloster.'^ 

1. Had more affected. Had been more partial to. =hked. 

2. Albany. According to HoHnshed, Albany is derived from-c4Z- 
bania, the region north of the Humber. The name was first given 
to the whole island by the Celts. Later it was restricted to the 
Scotch country, and then to the northern English province. The 
root alb or alp means a height. 

5-6. Curiosity . . . moiety. The nicest distinction is not made 
between theih. Moiety = fraction other than one-half. 

10. Brazed. Grown brazen by habit. (See Hamlet, III, 4-37.) 

12. Proper. Fair, comely. 

13. Some year. Same use as some minute, in Romeo and Juliet. 
15. Something = somewhat. So written in some editions. 

25. Out. ^Abroad. There was no opportunity for him to attain 
success at home, owing to his illegitimate birth. 

26. Sennet. A succession of notes on cornet or trumpet. 
29. Darker purpose. Our hitherto secret plans. 

31. In three. We still use ''cut in two." 

Fast. Unalterable. 
34. Cornwall. The southwest portion of England. 
38. France and Burgundy. The Chronicle puts Lear in the time of 
Joash, King of Judah. The poet puts him in the time after Charle- 
magne, when Burgundy was a nation in itself. 

43. Both. Shakespeare frequently used the term with more than 
two nouns. 

47. Where nature, etc. "Where your natural affection deservedly 
claims its due." — Crosby. 
49. Wield. Express. 

51. Eyesight, space, and liberty. The power to see, the world to be 
seen, and the freedom to enjoy. 

60. Shadowy. The folio reads, "shady." Notice the beautiful 
landscape pictured in lines 60-61. 
Champaigns— plains. 
Rich'd= enriched. 

(143) 



144 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

65. *SeZ/= selfsame. 

66. Prize me=prize or value myself. 

70. Square of sense. Rolfe says: 

"Which the most precious square of sense professes. The folio 
reading; the quartos have 'possesses.' The choice between the two 
depends on the meaning of square of sense, which is not easy to make 
out. Warburton thought it referred to 'the four nobler senses, sight, 
hearing, taste, and smell.' Johnson says: 'Perhaps square means 
only compass, comprehension.' Edwards makes it 'the full comple- 
ment of all the senses;' Moberly, 'the choicest estimate of sense;' 
Wright, 'the most delicately sensitive part of my nature.' Schmidt, 
in his Lexicon, makes square = ' rule, regularity, just proportion,' if 
we read professes (as he does in his edition of the play), and para- 
phrases the line thus : ' which the soundest sense acknowledges as Joys.' 
If we read possesses, he would make square = ' compass, range ( ?) . The 
objection to all these interpretations is that they do not so much find 
a meaning in square as force one upon it. If Shakespeare wrote the 
word, it must have one of these meanings — rule, estimate, compass, 
or range; but we suspect some corruption. The Collier MS. has 
'sphere,' and Singer reads 'spacious sphere;' but the emendations 
are not to our mind. For a fuller discussion of the enigma we must 
refer the reader to Furness, who has a full page of fine print upon it. 
He, by the way, reads professes, and remarks: 'Whatever meaning 
or no-meaning we may attach to square of sense, it seems clear to me 
that Regan refers to the joys which that square professes to bestow.'" 

71. Felicitate. Made happy. Used nowhere else. 

75. More ponderous. Also written ''more richer." 

76. Validity =Ya}vie. 

79. Our joy. Note Lear addresses Goneril as "Our eldest-born;" 
Regan as, "Our dearest Regan;" and Cordelia as, "Our joy." 

80. Our last and least. Cordelia was evidently small of stature. 
Lear carried her dead body in his arms although he was then over 
fourscore. 

81. Vines of France, and Milk of Burgundy. The vineyards of 
France and the pastures of Burgundy. 

84. Nothing, my lord. Cordelia's intense devotion to truth makes 
her imnecessarily blunt of speech. Coleridge says of this line : 

" There is something of disgust at the ruthless hypocrisy of her sis- 
ters, and some little faulty admixture of pride and sullenness in Cor- 
delia's 'Nothing;' and her tone is well contrived, indeed, to lessen 
the glaring absurdity of Lear's conduct, but answers the yet more 
important purpose of forcing away the attention from the nursery- 
tale the moment it has served its end, that of supplying the canvas 
for the picture. This is also materially furthered by Kent's opposi- 
tion, which displays Lear's moral mcapability of resigning the sov- 
ereign power in the very act of disposing of it. Kent is, perhaps, 
the nearest to perfect goodness in all Shakespeare's characters, and 



N"OTES 145 

yet the most individualized. There is an extraordinary charm in his 
bluntness, which is that only of a nobleman, arising from a contempt 
of overstrained courtesy, and combined with easy placability where 
goodness of heart is apparent. His passionate affection for, and 
fidelity to, Lear act on our feelings in Lear's own favor; virtue seems 
to be in company with him." 

90. According to my bond. That is, as a daughter should love her 
father. 

92. Mar. The opposite of ''mendJ' 

98. Love you all. With all their love. 

99. Plight. Pledge. 

108-111. For, by . . . be. Lear's spiritual belief is here told. 
He holds to the power of astrology over human destiny. 

109. Hecate. An ancient Thracian goddess with the power to 
bestow wealth and happiness. She is also accredited with being a 
deity of the infernal regions, able to send out all evils upon those 
who fell under her curse. 

116. Makes his generation messes. Who eats his own children. 

122. Wrath. Metonymy. The object of wrath is meant. 

126. Who stirs? A disputed expression. One interpretation is, 
that it is a threat to silence those present who would resent this 
harshness; another, that the courtiers seemed unwilling to obey this 
command; a third, that all are so horror-stricken at Lear's outburst 
of rage they forget to move. 

135-6. Only we . . . king. The kingly honor. The empty sound 
of being called a king. The burden and responsibility of ruling 
is laid aside. 

144. Make from. Go from; get away from. 

145. The fork. The barbed-arrow head. 

147. What would'st thou do f Lear evidently puts his hand to his 
sword. 

Kent's plea throughout is not for a softening of Lear's harshness 
toward Cordelia, but for Lear to keep his kingship entire. 

157-159. My life . . . motive. The very essence of loyalty is 
here expressed. 

163. Blank. The white center of the target. " Keep your eye on 
me," he says in effect. 

164. By Apollo. Leai's gods are here revealed again. 

173. Recreant. What is the distinction between this term and 
"miscreant,'' line 154? 

181. Diseases. Discomforts. 

187. ;Sii^=since. 
—10 



146 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

189. Take thee: i. e., Cordelia. 
191. Your large speeches. To Goneril and Reagan. 
207. Little = seeming. Another reference to her small stature. 
209. 1/1/06= please. 
212. Owes=owns. 

217. Makes not up. Reaches no decision. 

223. Avert. Turn away. The only instance of Shakespeare's use 
of this word. 

228. Argument. Subject of j^our thought and conversation. 

229. In this trice. We still use ''In a trice." 
233. M ousters =Tn?ikes monstrous. 

238. // for I want=" Because I want." 

244. But even for want, etc. The construction is faulty. 

245. Still-soliciting = ever begging. 

247. Hath lost me; i. e., caused me to lose. 

254. Regards. Considerations. 

255. Entire point. Main point. 

256. She is herself a dowry. A fine compliment. 

275. Waterish. A term of contempt. 

276. Unpriz'd=not prized bj'- others. 
278. Here and u'/iere= nouns in their use. 
291. Pre/er= commend. 

296. Fortune's alms. Fortune's alms-giving. 

297. Well are worth the want that you have wanted. "The want that 
you have brought upon yourself." — Rolfe. 

298. Plighted. Folded. 
310. Grossly. Evident. 
315. /ng'ra^ec?=ingrafted. 
318. Unconstant = capricious. 
321. Hit. Agree. 

323. Offend. Injure. 

325. /' the heat. While the iron is hot. Note that the sister's 
condemn Lear in the case of Cordelia and of Kent. 

Scene II. 

] . Thou nature. Edmund's religion is here shown. 

3. Stand in the plague of custom. The curse of his illegitimacy was 
the "plague of custom." 

4. Curiosity. Exacting nicety. Compare with note on I, 5-6. 
Deprive. Disinherit. 

5. Moonshines. Months. 



NOTES 147 

6. Lag of. Later than. 

7. Compact. Well built. 

19. SubscriVd. Surrendered. ^ 

20. Exhibition. Mere allowance. 

21. Upon the gad. In a moment's time. 
36. Are to blame. Are blamable. 

39. Essay. Test. 

40. Policy. Established order. 

41. Best of our times. The best part of our lives. 

54. Closet. Bedroom. 

55. Character. Handwriting. Shakespeare with only one or two 
exceptions used the word in this sense. See Hamlet IV, 7-53 : '' And 
these few precepts in thy memory see thou character." 

65. Perfect age. Majority. 

69. Detested. Detestable. 

75. ir/iere= whereas. 

89-90. Wind me into him. Worm your way into his confidence. 

91. Unstate myself. Give up my rank or fortune. 

To be in due resolution. To be clear on this point. 
93. Convey. Manage skillfully. 

95. These late eclipses, etc. Gloster was superstitious. This be- 
lief in astrology, still common in Shakespeare's time, held the early 
English minds in bondage. 

96. Though the vjisdom, etc. Natural science can account for 
causes of eclipses, but we suffer their consequences. 

102. Bias of nature. Natural tendency. 

105. Disquietly. Cause disturbance to us. 

109. This is the excellent foppery, etc. Here is Edmund's scorn of 
his father's superstition. He will be shrewd enough to use it for his 
own ends, nevertheless. 

114. Treachers. Traitors. 

115. Spherical predominance. A term used in astrology. 

117. Like the catastrophe in the old comedy. Like event which 
determines the catastrophe of the play comes in its appointed time. 

118-19. Tom o' Bedlam. The beggar afterward personated by Ed- 
gar. 

124. Succeed. Follow. 

127-134. Asof unnaturalness. . . . Come, come. Believed by the 
best authorities not to have been written by Shakespeare. 

138-9. No displeasure in him. That is, ''no displeasure directed 
toward you in him?" 



148 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

144-5. Mischief of your person. Harm to your person. 
147-8. Continent forbearance. A restraint. 
163. Practices. Schemes, plots. 

Scene III. 

1. Chiding of. The same construction occurs in II, 1-39, "Mum- 
bhng of;" and V, 3-204, "Hearing of." 

3. "The steward should be placed in exact antithesis to Kent, as 
the only character of utter irredeemable baseness in Shakespeare. 
Even in this the judgment and invention of the poet are very observ- 
able; for what else could the willing tool of a Goneril be? Not a vice 
but this of baseness was left open to him." — Coleridge. 

15. Distaste. Dislike; so written in earlier volumes. 

21. With checks as flatteries. Various critics have tried to explain 
this phrase, but no one has rendered the meaning any clearer than 
Shakespeare has expressed it. 

28. To hold my very course. The very same course I hold. 

Scene IV. 

2. Diffuse. Disguise. 

4. Raz'd. Erased. 

6. So may it come. It may so come. 
11. Profess. What is thy calling? 

16. Eat no fish. That is, to be a Protestant. In Queen Elizabeth's 
time it was the mark of a Papist to eat fish on Friday. Manifestly 
Protestantism was unknown to Kent's day. 

27. You have that . . . master. A fine conception of the king- 
liness of Lear. Many men in history have had the same distinction, 
the inherent dominant force that men must recognize. When it is a 
natural gift it marks the ruler; when it is assumed it marks the ty- 
rant. 

32. Curious. Elaborate; as, "curiously wrought fabrics." 

46. Clotpoll. Clodpoll, blockhead. 

53. Roundest. Bluntest. 

64. Rememherest. Remindest. 

65. Most faint. Hardly discernible. 

66. Curiosity. "Scrupulous watchfulness." — Stevens. See I, 1-5. 
72. The fool hath much pined away. Evidently Lear's fool is of a 

superior order, unlike the mere jesters of the times. Lear's answer 
shows how quickly his spirit responds to the fool's feelings. It is a 
significant suggestion of the first remorse in Lear. 



NOTES 149 

82. Bandy. A term used in tennis. 

83. Strucken. See Julius Ccesar II, 2, 114: "Caesar, it is striicken 
eight." 

84. Foot-ball. Moberly says: "A somewhat vulgar recreation, 
practiced by the London apprentices in Cheapside to the terror of 
respectable citizens." 

91. Earnest. Money paid in advance to ensure the bargain. 
91. Enter Fool. Criticisms of Lear's Fool : 

" ' Now, our joy, though last, not least,' mj^ dearest of all Fools, 
Lear's Fool! Ah, what a noble heart, a gentle and a loving one, lies 
beneath that parti-colored jerkin! . . . Look at him! It may be 
your eyes see him not as mine do, but he appears to me of a light del- 
icate frame, every feature expressive of sensibility even to pain, with 
eyes lustrously intelligent, a mouth blandly beautiful, and withal a 
hectic flush upon his cheek. Oh that I were a painter! Oh that I 
could describe him as I knew him in my boyhood, when the Fool 
made me shed tears, while Lear did but terrify me! . . . When the 
Fool enters, throwing his coxcomb at Kent, and instantly follows it 
up with allusions to the miserable rashness of Lear, we ought to un- 
derstand him from that moment to the last. Throughout this scene 
his wit, however varied, still aims at the same point, and in spite of 
threats, and regardless how his words may be construed by Goneril's 
creatures, with the eagerness of a filial love he prompts the old king 
to 'resume the shape which he had cast off.' 'This is not altogether 
fool, my lord.' But, alas ! it is too late ; and when driven from the 
scene by Goneril, he turns upon her with an indignation that knows 
no fear of the ' halter ' for himself : ' A fox when one has caught her. 
And such a daughter. Should sure to the slaughter. If my cap would 
buy a halter.' That such a character should be distorted by players, 
printers, and commentators! Observe every word he speaks; his 
meaning, one would imagine, could not be misinterpreted; and when 
at length, finding his covert reproaches can avail nothing, he changes 
his discourse to simple mirth, in order to distract the sorrows of his 
master. When Lear is in the storm, who is with him? None — not 
even Kent — 'None but the Fool; who labors to outjest His heart- 
struck injuries.' The tremendous agony of Lear's mind would be 
too painful, and even deficient in pathos, without this poor faithful 
servant at his side. It is he that touches our hearts with pity, while 
Lear fills the imagination to aching." — C. A. Brown. 

"A youth, not a grown man." — Charles Cowden Clarke. 

"After these long and good notes by my betters I wish merely to 
record humbly but firmly my conviction that the Fool, one of Shake- 
speare's most wonderful characters, is not a boy, but a man — one of 
the shrewdest, tenderest of men, whom long life had made shrewd, 
and whom afflictions had made tender; his wisdom is too deep for 
any boy, and could be found only in a man, removed by not more 
than a score of years from the king's own age; he had been Lear's 
companion from the days of Lear's early manhood." — H . H. Furness. 

"Not only does much that he says show a shrewdness which can 
only be the result of long experience and observation of men and 



150 THE CRAIN'E CLASSICS 

things, but his intense sympathy for Lear seems to us beyond the 
capacity of boyish years. On the other hand, Lear's addressing him 
as 'boy' and 'pretty knave,' and the Hke, may be explained, partly 
by the force of habit — for he was a mere boy when he first became 
Lear's companion, and, it may be added, would from his very posi- 
tion naturally continue to be regarded and treated as a boy— and 
partly from his slight and fragile physique, which would make him 
appear more like an overgrown boy than a man." — William J. Rolfe. 

92. Coxcomb. The fool's cap, the badge of his calling. 

97-8. Thou' It catch cold. That is, be turned out of doors in the in- 
clement weather. 

99. Banished. By giving them the kingdom he has lost their re- 
gard. 

Blessing. Lear made Cordelia Queen of France by cursing her. 

101. N uncle. Possibly contracted from mine uncle. 

108. Brach. Female hound. 

109. A pestilent gall to me. This may refer to the bitterness of the 
fool's jesting, or to the memory of Oswald's treatment, or to the mem- 
ory of Cordelia's banishment. 

115. Owest. Ownest. 
118. Set. Put to stake. 

139. Motley. The parti-colored dress of the fool. 
154. Thy ass. Refers to ^sop's fable. 

180. Frontlet. A frown. A frontlet was a band worn on the 
forehead at night, to keep it smooth. 
190. Shealed pcascod. A mere husk. 
201. The tender of a wholesome weal. The care of a commonwealth. 

207. It head. Old form of possessive. 

208. Darkling. In the dark. 
219. Notion. Mind. 

226. Which. Whom, possibly. 

228. Admiration. Astonishment. 

231. As you . . . wise. A proper conception of a graceful old 
age. A rebuke to Lear, whose years had not brought wisdom. 

233. Debosh'd. Evidently debauched. 

240. Disquantity . Reduce. 

242. Besort. Befit, become. 

259. Worships. The dignity, or honor. 

265. Dear. Valuable, precious. 

270-283. A bitter malediction for a father to pronounce upon his 
daughter. It has hardly a parallel in literature. 

275. Teem. Bear children. 



NOTES 151 

277. Thwart. Perverse. 

Disnatur'd. Unnatural. 
279. Cadent. Falling. 

295. Untented. Unprobed, incurable. (See Tent, in Dictionary.) 
301. Comfortable. Able to comfort. 
310. You, sir. To the fool. 
321. At point. Prepared. 

340. Milky gentleness. Macbeth, his wife says, has "too much of 
the milk of human kindness." 

Scene V. 
8. Kibes. Chilblains. 

10. Thy wit, etc. "This journey shows you have no wit." 
14. Crab. A crab-apple. 
22. / did her wrong. 

"The beautiful soul of Cordelia, that is little talked of by herself, 
and is but stingily set forth by circumstance, engrosses our feeling 
in scenes from whose threshold her filial piety is banished. We know 
what Lear is so pathetically remembering ; the sisters tell us in their 
cruellest moments; it mingles with the midnight storm a sigh of the 
daughterhood that was repulsed. In the pining of the Fool we de- 
tect it. Through every wail or gust of this awful symphony of mad- 
ness, ingratitude, and irony, we feel a woman's breath." — Weiss. 

33. The seven stars. The Pleiades. 

36. To take 't again perforce. Possibly Lear was meditating the 
resumption of his throne. 

42. 0, let me not be mad. Lear's first intimation of coming insanity. 
This is a common experience in the disease. Many instances are 
recorded wherein the consciousness of coming madness wears on the 
mind long before it loses its reason. It is one of the most poignantly 
pathetic things of life. 

Act II. 
Scene I. 

1. Save thee. God save thee. 

10. Toward. In preparation. 

17. Queasy. Delicate. 

31. Quit you. Acquit you. 

32. Yield! come before my father! This is spoken in a loud voice, 
so it may be heard outside. 

44. This way. Pointing to the wrong way. 
51. Loathly. For the adverb loathingly. 
57. Gasted. Frightened. 



152 THE CRAN^E CLASSICS 

68. Pight. Fixed. 

70. Unpossessing. Unable to inherit legitimately. 

75. Character. Writing. 
79. Pregnant. Read}''. 

81. Fastened. Confirmed. 

82. I never got him. Begot him. 

85. His picture, etc. A custom much older than the art of pho- 
tography. 

129. Poise. Importance. 

Scene II. 
1. Dawning. Evening, 

8. Lipsbury pinfold. A disputed expression. No satisfactory ex- 
planation exists concerning it. 
15. Lily-livered. Cowardly. 

Action-taking. Resorting to lawsuits instead of fighting out 
an insult. 

22. Addition. Title. 

29. Cullionly. Base, cullion-like. 

33. Vanity the puppet's part. Evidently vanity is here the person- 
ification of Goneril's weakness as contrasted with Lear's royalty. In 
the old allegorical plays Vanity was personated in the puppet, Hope 
in the beautiful heroine, etc. 

34. Carbonado. To cut meat crosswise for boiling. 
37. Neat. Mere. 

41. Goodman boy. Used contemptousl3^ 

42. Flesh. To give flesh food for the first time. To initiate. 
50. Disclaims in. Disowns. 

59. Zed. Obsolete form of the letter Z. The application here 
is possibly that, as Z is a letter but little known, so this Oswald is a 
nobody, and unnecessary. 

69. Holy cords. Same as ''sacred ties" between parent and child 
and husband and wife. 

70. Intrinse. Intricate. 
73. Renege. Deny. 

Halcyon beaks. The kingfisher, that always turns its beak with 
the wind. 

76. Epileptic. Distorted. 

78. Sarum. Former name for Salisbury. 

79. Camelot. In the old Arthurian legends Camelot was in Som- 
ersetshire, a place noted for moors where geese were bred. 

86. Likes. Pleases. 



NOTES 153 

101. Observants. Attendants. 

108. Discommend. Disapprove. 

117. Compact. In conjunction with. 

122. Fleshment. In the first flush of glory. 

125. Ajax is their fool. Is a fool to them. 

141. Being. That is, you being. 

160. RuhVd. Hindered. 

163. A good man's fortune, etc. Even a good man may have bad 
luck. 

167. The common sau\ The old saying, ''Out of God's blessing 
into the warm sun." Meaning from good to bad. Usually applied 
to being turned out of doors. 

170. Under globe. The world. 

171. Comfortable. Comforting. 

Scene III. 
2. Happy. Fortunate. 
6. Am bethought. Think. 
10. Elf. Tangle, as elves were supposed to do to slovenly persons. 

14. Bedlam beggars. England had many stories of such people. 
One writes describing such a man: 

'' 'An Abraham-man:' 'He sweares he hath been in Bedlam, and 
will talke frantickely of purpose: you see pinnes stuck in sundry 
places of his naked flesh, especially in his amies, which paine he gladly 
puts himselfe to, only to make you believe he is out of his wits. He 
calls himselfe by the name of Poore Tom, and comming near any 
body cries out, Poore Tom is a-cold. Of these Abraham-men, some 
be exceeding merry, and doe nothing but sing songs fashioned out 
of their own braines: some will dance, others will doe nothing but 
either laugh or weepe : others are dogged, and so sullen both in loke 
and speech, that spying but a small company in a house, they boldly 
and bluntly enter, compelling the servants through feare to give them 
what they demand." 

15. Mortified. Deadened. 

18. Pelting. Paltry. 

19. Bans. Curses. 

20. Turlygod. A kind of beggar. 

Scene IV. 
10. Cruel garters. A pun on crewel garters; the worsted out of 
which garters were often made. 

13. Nether-stocks. Short stockings. 

28. Upon respect. Upon respectability, or deliberately. 



154 THE CRANE CLASSICS 

29. Resolve me. Inform me. 

Modest. As reasonable as truth-telling will permit of. 
38. Spite of intermission. Without waiting to give Kent answer. 
40. Meiny. Retinue. 
46. Displayed so saucily. Became so impudent. 

56. Dolours. Play on the word dollars. 

57. Tell. Count. 

58. This mother. The only instance where mother-love has any 
part in this tragedy of fierce passions. 

59. Hysterica passio. Hysterics. 

86. Perdy. A corrupt form of par Dieu. 

91. Fetches. Pretenses. 

114. Headier. Impetuous, headlong. 

118. Remotion. Removal. 

119. Practice. Deception. 

126. Cockney. Possibly cockney cook. 

126-130. Absurd cruelty and absurd kindness are both sho\vn in 
these lines. 

142. Quality. Nature. 

168. Abated. Deprived. 

172. Top. Head. 

182. Tender-hefted. A much-disputed term. It may mean tender- 
hested. Of a tender disposition, or hefted as derived from heaving; 
the bosom heaving with tender emotions. Other interpretations, 
more far-fetched, still are given by some critics. 

186. Sizes. Allowances. 

234. Knee. Kneel before. 

236. Sumpter. Packhorse. 

245. Embossed. Protuberant. 

320. Particular. Personally. 

Act III. 

Scene I. 
6. Main. Mainland. 
8. Eyeless. Undiscerning, blind. 
12. Cub-drawn. Robbed of her cubs. 
20. Note. Knowing. 

28. Snuffs and packings. Offenses and plottings. 
35. At point. Prepared. 
48. Out-wall. Exterior. 
57. Pain. Labor, effort. 



NOTES 155 

Scene II. 

2. Hurricanoes. Waterspouts. 

3. Cocks. Weather-vanes. 

5. Vaunt-couriers. Forerunners. 
8. All germens spill. Destroy all seed. 
10. Court holy-water. Compliments — even flattery. 
23. High engendered battles. Engendered in the upper air. 
27. The man that makes his toe, etc. That sets up little, trivial 
things in place of vital ones. 

39. Gallon). Frighten. The only instance of this use of the word. 

40. Since I was a man, etc. Compare with Casca's description of 
night, in Julius Ccesar, I, 3. 

43. Carry. Endure. 

46. Pudder. Pother, or bother. 

50. Simular. Deceiver, sinmlator. 

55. Summoners. Those who summon. The officers of Ihe law. 

62. Demanding. Inquiring. 

Scene III. 
12. Look. Look for. 

19. Forbid thee. Forbidden thee. 

Scene IV. 

20. This mouth should tear. As if this mouth, etc. 
32. Poverty. Abstract for concrete. 

37. Loop'd and window'd. Full of holes. 

41. Superflex. Superfluity. 

64. Star-blasting. The curse of the stars upon him. The same as 
being "born under an evil star." 
72. Pendulous. Impending. 
76. Lowness. Low estate. 

80. Pelican. The fable runs that young pelicans are fed with 
blood from the parent's breast. 

81. Pillicock. Sometimes a term of endearment. 
89-99. A remarkable speech. 

107. Unaccommodated. Without any of the conveniences of civil- 
ization — aboriginal. 

109. Unbutton. Very likelj'^ meant for a mere stage direction. 

110. Naughty. Used in a much stronger sense then than now. 

113. Walking fire. Gloster with a torch. 

114. Flibbertigibbet. Shakespeare got this name from Dr. Hars- 



156 THE CEANE CT.ASS1CS 

net's Declaration of Popish Impostures, published in 1603. Harsnet 
says: ''Frateretto, Fleberdigibet, Hoberdidance, Tocobatto, were 
four deuils of the round, or Morrice, whom Sara in her fits, tuned 
together, in measure and sweet cadence." It had come to be used 
figuratively even in that day, for Cotgrave gives it as one of the defi- 
nitions of Coquette: " A fisking, or fliperous minx, a cocket or tatling 
housewife; a titifiU, a flebergebit." 

115. Walks. Goes away. 

Web and the pin. Old name for a cataract on the eye. 

118. Old. Wold. 

122. Aroint. Away with. 

128, Wall-newt and the water. The lizard on the wall and the 
water-lizard. 

130. SalUts. Salads. 

Ditch-dog. Dead dog thrown in the ditch. 

132. Tithing. A parish or district in the country, corresponding 
to a ward in the city. Tramps were publicly whipped and sent from 
parish to parish, by statute enacted in Queen Elizabeth's time. 

Stocked, punished. Old folios had stock-punished. 

133. Where are Tom's clothes now? 
135. Deer. General name for game. 

137. Smulkin. Another one of Harsnet's devils. 

139-140. Modo . . . Maku. Two more of Harsnet's. 

142. Gets. Begets. Did Edgar's voice remind Gloster of his son, 
whom he believed to be unfilial? 

183. Child Rowland. Same as Childe Harold. The title given in 
old English ballads to a j^oung knight. 

Scene V. 

2. Censured. Judged. 
Nature. Natural affection. 

3. Fears me. Frightens me. 

6. Provoking merit. Edgar's merit, which moved him against his 
father, who lacked merit. 

9. Approves. Proves. 

18. Comforting. "Giving aid and comfort," the legal terms of 
treason. 

Scene VI. 
6. Frateretto . . . Nero. See note on Flibbertigibbet, IV, 114. 

10. Yeoman. A freeholder, but not a gentleman. 

13. Mad yeoman. This is something of a reflection upon Shake- 



NOTES 157 

speare himself. Hudson says "the poet obtained from the Heralds' 
College a coat-of-arms in his father's name; thus getting his yeoman 
father dubbed a gentleman, in order, no doubt, that he himself might 
inherit his rank." 

16. Hizzing. Hissing. 

21. Justicer. Justice. 

26. Come o^er, etc. An English ballad by William Brich. 

31. Hoppedance. Harsnet's devil. 

39. Bench. Take place. ''To bench," used sometimes for ''to 
raise to authority." 

44. Minikin. Petty, small. 

46. Pur. Either in imitation of a cat, or Purre, one of Harsnet's 
devils. 

69. Lym,. Lime-hound, or leash-led hound. 

70. Tike. A cur. 

85. I'll go to bed at noon. This is the last appearance of the fool 
in the play. 

100. Balmed. Healed. 
110. Sufferance. Suffering. 
117. Repeals. Recalls. 

Scene VII. 
10. Festinate. Speedy. 
16. Questrists. Seekers. 
25. Pass upon. Pass sentence on. 
30. Corky. Withered. 

44. Quicken. Turn to life. 

45. Hospitable favors. The features of your host. 
49. Simple-answered. Plain in answer. 

74. Stelled. Fixed. 

78. All cruels else subscribe. A phrase much studied upon and not 
yet satisfactorily explained by any critic. 
94. Villain. Serf. 
105. Quit. Requite. 

122. The old course. The ordinary death. 
126. Allows itself to. To be turned to or employed with. 

Act IV. 

Scene I. 
4. Esperance. Hope. 
9. Owes nothing. Need not care for. 

11-12. The strange changes of fortune make us hate life and ren- 
der us willing to grow old and die. 



158 THE CKANE CLASSICS 

22. Our means secure us. Make us secure and careless. 

23. Commodities. Advantages. 

39-40. My son came then into my mind. Why should he have 
done so? 

74. Mopping and mowing. Making faces. 

79. That I am wretched, etc. My disasters make me feel more for 
others. 

81. Superfluous. Having an abundance. 

82. Slaves. Does not obey the law of heaven, but makes it servant 
to him. 

87. "The cliff now known as Shakespeare's Cliff is just outside of 
the town of Dover, to the southwest. Tt has been somewhat dimin- 
ished in height by frequent landslips, but it is still about 350 feet 
high. The surge still chafes against the pebbles, and the samphire- 
gatherer is still let down in a basket to pursue his perilous trade ; but 
the cliff is not so perpendicular, nor do objects below seem so small 
as one would infer from the poet's description. Probablj'^ he did not 
mean to give a picture of this particular cliff, but delineated one ' in 
his mind's eye,' and more or less ideal. The South Eastern Railwaj'- 
now runs through the Dover cliff, in a tunnel 1331 yards long. — W. 
J. Rolfe. 

Scene II. 

1. Mild husband. Albany from the first did not favor the schemes 
of Goneril. 

14. Cowish. Easily cowed. 

16. Our wishes on the way, etc. A hint of the unfaithfulness of 
Goneril to her husband is here suggested. 

24. Decliiie. Incline. 

26. Conceive. Comprehend. 

33. / have been worth the whistle. T have been in past time worth 
coming to meet sooner. 

37. Contemns its origin. Nature grown so degenerate that it con- 
temns its origin and will break forth in more monstrous excesses. 

47. Head-lugg'd. Bear led by the head. 

61. Where's thy drum? Where are the forces that should rally to 
the cause? 

62. Noiseless land. No sound of preparations for war. 
64. Moral. Moralizing. 

67. Proper deformity. "Deformity comformable to the charac- 
ter." — Schmidt. 

70. Self -covered. The fiend completely hides the woman. 

71. Feature. Bodily form. 

96. One way I like this well. Goneril feels that Cornwall, one of the 



I^OTES 



159 



rulers, is out of the way. If she can get rid of Albany and marry 
Edmund, she can dispose of Regan either by murder or by overcoming 
her in some other way. But Edmund may turn now to Regan, who 
is free. 

104. Back again. Going back again. 

Scene III. 

39. Self mate and mate. The same husband and wife. 

49. Elbows. Crowds down upon him. 

60. Some dear cause. Some important matter. 

Scene IV. 

6. A century. A company of 100 men. 

8. Can. Can do. 

13. Our jostcr-nurse of nature is repose. 

"The reply of the Physician is significant, and worthy of careful 
attention, as embi-acing a brief summary of almost the only true prin- 
ciples recognized by modern science, and now carried out b}^ the most 
eminent physicians in the treatment of the insane. We find here no 
allusion to the scourgings, the charms, the invocation of saints, etc., 
employed by the most eminent physicians of the time of Shakespeare ; 
neither have we any allusion to the rotary chairs, the vomitings, 
the purgings by hellebore, the showerings, the bleedings, scalp-shav- 
ings, and blisterings, which, even down to our own times, have been 
inflicted upon these unfortunates by 'science falsely so called,' and 
which stand recorded as imperishable monuments of medical folly; 
but in place of all this, Shakespeare, speaking through the mouth 
of the Physician, gives us the principle, simple, truthful, and uni- 
versally applicable." — Dr. Kellogg, in ''Shakespeare's Delineation of 
Insanity." 

15. Simples. Medicinal herbs. 

19. Aidant and remediate. Healing and helpful. 

29. Important. Importunate. 

Scene V. 

30. (Eillades. Amorous looks. 

In this scene Oswald, who is the very type of perfidy, shows how 
loyal he can be to the one whom he serves. It is a strange contra- 
diction in nature, but the portrayal of it serves to show how keen was 
the writer's grasp of himian traits, common and uncommon. 



160 THE CRANE CEASSICS 

Scene VI. 

18. Choughs. Birds of the crow family. 

19. Gross. Large. 

20. Sampire. Samphire, sold for pickles. It grew in dangerous 
crevices of cliffs. Gathering it was a perilous business. 

24. Cock. Cock-boat. 

42. Is done to cure it. My trifling is done, etc. 

48. Snuff. The part the candle-flame has fed upon. 

68. Bown. Boundary. 

85. Whelked. Knobbed. 

102. Press-money. Money given to a soldier impressed into ser- 
vice. 

Crow-keeper. One who keeps crows out of a field. 

106. Brown bills. Halberds used by foot-soldiers. 
Well floivn, bird. A term used in falconry. 
Clout. White mark in the center of the target. 

120. Trick. Peculiarity. 

133. Piece. Masterpiece. 

137. Squiny. Squint. 

143. Case. Empty sockets. 

152. Handy-dandy. A children's game, where something is passed 
q\iickly from hand to hand. 

164. Able. Warrant. 

171. Impertinency. What is not pertinent. 

188. The natural fool of fortune. The sport of fortune, the play- 
thing of fate. 

202. Sa, sa, sa, sa. Possibly the panting after swift running. 

208. Speed you. May you prosper. 

210. Vulgar. Common. 

214. Descry. Main body. 

227. Feeling. Heartfelt. 

228. Pregnant. Disposed. 

229. Biding. Abiding-place. 
232. To boot. Above my thanks. 

236. Thyself remember. Make you peace. 

237. Now let, etc. Gloster wants Oswald to do his work quickly. 
He courts death. 

244. Chill, etc. "I mil," in the Somersetshire dialect. Edgar 
adopts this form of speech as a further disguise. Chud=" I should." 
Che vor ye=''l warn you." 7se="I shall." Costard=hesid. Bal- 
low= cudgel. 



isroTES 161 

254. Foins. Thrusts in fencing. 

270. Leave, gentle wax. " By your leave" — to the seal of the letter. 
Manners, blame ks not. Excuse this rudeness in opening 
other people's letters. 

281. Indistinguished space. Unlimited range. 

287. Death-practised duke. Duke against whose life there is a plot. 

290. Ingenious. Conscious. 

Scene VII. 
8. Weeds. Garments. 

18. Great breach in his abused nature. A fine line. 
20. Child-changed father. Either changed by his children, or be- 
come childish. 

28. Temperance. Self-restraint. 

42. Perdu. Forlorn one. 

95. Even o'er. To run over the time spent in madness. 

110. Arbitrement. Decision. 

Act V. 
Scene I. 

4. Constant pleasure. Settled resolution. 

5. Miscarried. Lost. 

6. Doubled. Feared, or suspected. 

8. Intend upon. Intend to confer upon. 
13. For fended. Forbidden. 
15. / am doubtful. I suspect. 

30. It toucheth us, as France invades our land. I would not fight 
against Lear, but I fight for England against France. 

31. Bolds. This verbal use is found nowhere else. 

32. Make oppose. 

39. Ancient of war. Those old in military affairs. 
44. / know the riddle. I know your game. 
59. Overlook. Look over. 

Scene II. 
12. Ripeness. Readiness is the essential thing. 

Scene III. 

18. God's spies. God's angels. 

19. Packs and sects. Coalitions and conspiracies of court. 

25. Like foxes. The custom of smoking foxes out of their holes 

was common. 
—11 



162 THE CRAK^E CLASSICS 

30. This note. This warrant. 
46. Strain. Family. 
74. Immediacy. Next in authority. 
80. Compeers. Is equal with. 

85. / am, not weU. Evidently Regan is poisoned and by Goneril's 
hand. 

107. An interlude. "A plot within a plot." — Moberly. 
125. Virtue. Valor. 

158. Maugre. In spite of. 

159. Fire-new. Just from the mint. 
175. Hell-hated. As hateful as hell. 

187. No tearing, lady. No tears, or no crying. 
348, Nor no man else. Nobody else to give him welcome. 
367. My poor fool. Cordelia is meant here. The term is one of 
endearment. 



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